


Orchid of the Black Dawn

by MaggieMaybe160



Category: Mulan (1998)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Real World, Anal Sex, Ancient China, Angst, Angst and Feels, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Anxiety, Archery, Bisexual Li Shang, Biting, Bittersweet Ending, Blood and Injury, Brotherhood, Childbirth, Creampie, Cuddling & Snuggling, Domestic Fluff, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Falling In Love, Family Feels, Finger Sucking, First Kiss, First Time, Friends to Lovers, Friendship, Gentle Kissing, Gentle Sex, Grief/Mourning, Hair-pulling, Honor, Horseback Riding, Horses, Hunters & Hunting, Hurt/Comfort, Injury, Injury Recovery, Loneliness, M/M, Major Character Injury, Married Couple, Masturbation, Military Training, Miscarriage, Murder, Naked Cuddling, Outdoor Sex, POV Alternating, Possessive Sex, Post-Coital Cuddling, Post-War, Rough Kissing, Rough Sex, Sad Ending, Secret Identity, Secret Relationship, Smut, Sneaking Around, Sneaking Out, Swordfighting, Symbolism, Training, Training Camp, Unplanned Pregnancy, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex, War
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-30
Updated: 2020-11-12
Packaged: 2021-03-04 21:14:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 40
Words: 109,871
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25002958
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MaggieMaybe160/pseuds/MaggieMaybe160
Summary: When Mulan showed up with her father's conscription notice, she hadn't expected to make it a day, let alone 12 years. She hadn't expected to fall in love, make best friends for life, or save all of China either.
Relationships: Fa Mulan/Li Shang (Disney), chien po/ling
Comments: 283
Kudos: 352
Collections: To remember and cherish





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [LocalLoser](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LocalLoser/gifts).



> For my LocalLoser who is the entire reason I'm even writing this fic. Thanks for supporting me and being my best friend. Love you so much! 
> 
> Literally could not have done it without you, [insominia](https://archiveofourown.org/users/insominia). I love working on this with you. Thank you for being my rock. I love you!

_“By order of the Emperor: one man from every family must serve in the Imperial Army!_ ” The order is read out clearly across the courtyard. Even those not in the square can hear it, their stomachs plummeting. Like Mulan’s. As names are called, Mulan hopes her family will be skipped. Her father is the only man in the Fa family and he already served years ago. He has the scars and limp to prove it. 

“The Fa Family!” 

“No!” Mulan cries out as she runs toward the square, hoping she can somehow stop her father from taking his scroll. 

“I am ready to serve the Emperor,” her father announces.

“Father, you can’t go!” Mulan yells as she forces herself between her father and the army man who is holding out the conscription scroll. “Please, sir,” she says to the man. “My father has already fought—”

“Silence!” The Emperor’s advisor interrupts. “You will do well to teach your daughter to hold her tongue in a man’s presence.” 

“Mulan,” her father says, looking away from her, his face stern, “you dishonor me.” 

The gentle hands of her grandmother guide her away from the mess she’s made. She can hear her father accepting his place in the army as she goes. 

“He shouldn’t have to go,” she says quietly when she and her grandmother are out of the square, headed back to the house. Her mother had stayed behind to stand by her husband. “It’s not fair.”

“Life isn’t fair,” her grandmother says calmly. “Come.” 

Mulan lets herself be led to the kitchen where she and her grandmother begin preparing for dinner. They remain silent with nothing more to say. It would go in circles if Mulan told her again how unfair the entire thing is. Her grandmother agrees with her, but what’s there to do about it? Even if she didn’t talk about the war, she wouldn’t know what to say about how she feels. She knows that her father said it out of embarrassed anger rather, but it stung. 

It’s easy to forget that while she’s at home, she’s allowed to speak. She has her chores on the farm and she helps around the house. She’s her father’s little girl and he loves her. But outside of their house, she is a woman. She’s meant to be seen and not heard. She’s never to raise her voice above a dewdrop whisper and only when she’s spoken to. 

She hears her parents come home and keeps her head bowed as she cooks, knowing her father is not yet ready to have any conversation with her. He limps through the house and when Mulan looks up, she sees her mother carrying his wooden cane. He’s too proud to use it now that he’s going back. It’s that kind of dumb hubris that will lead to his death if he goes off to war in his condition. He uses that cane for a reason and none of his ailments were cured when he was handed that scroll. 

“It’s almost ready,” her grandmother says a while later. Mulan nods, standing up and going to retrieve her parents. 

There’s a room in the house that usually stays closed, the candles unlit, the door shut. Tonight, the room is open. It’s a training room for men. Her father had used it before his injuries and her brother would have used it when he was old enough had he not been stillborn. She looks in, peeking around the corner, and finds her father unsheathing his old sword. There’s a wardrobe there that she’s never seen open before. Now, both doors are thrown wide to reveal her father’s armor. 

He’d been a soldier long ago, but those days have passed. He’s since grown older with a failing heart and battle wounds that never really healed. His once-black hair has faded to gray with strands of pure white, his skin tired and wrinkled. He lifts his sword and practices battling his shadow. The movements are swift, his muscles unable to forget the formations. He lifts his leg as he raises the sword and cries out. The sword clatters to the floor as he falls. Mulan stifles her gasp behind her hand and hurries away from the doorway to give him the privacy he needs as she tells her mother it’s time for dinner. 

They’re all seated, silently sipping their tea as they nibble at their supper. Mulan can’t get the image of her father falling out of her head. If he goes tomorrow, he will surely die. 

“You shouldn’t have to go!” Mulan bursts out as she slams her teacup down and stands defiantly. 

“Mulan!” her mother tries, but Mulan can’t keep silent anymore. 

“There are plenty of young men to fight for China!” she continues heatedly. It’s not fair. It will never be fair. He shouldn’t have to fight twice. 

“It is an honor to protect my country and my family,” her father responds evenly and sternly. 

“So, you’ll die for honor?” Honor. He’s the honorable one. She’s the one who brings dishonor to her family by being as imperfect as she is. She made a mockery of her family in town today. Here he sits with his back straight and his shoulders squared, facing down his imminent death for honor. 

“I will die doing what’s right!” He fights back, standing. 

“But—”

“I know my place! It is time you learned yours!” The words sink deep. Her place. She opens her mouth but her place is to keep quiet and shove down the fighting spirit that she inherited from him. She feels her nose burn with tears that will fall soon so she turns and runs from the room. Her place isn’t at the dinner table with the family she brings dishonor to. 

She finds herself outside in the rain. She wraps her arms around a pillar as she begins to cry. It’s a hug she won’t receive from anyone else right now. There’s nowhere for her to go but she releases the pillar and steps off the porch and onto the path that leads to many places on their land. It’s the path used to get to their family temple. It’s also the one she uses every morning to get to the barn and stables to feed the chickens and her horse. 

The dirt path has turned to mud and she hadn’t bothered to put her shoes back on before her dramatic exit at dinner. She yanks the tie out of her long hair and lets the rain attempt to wash her sorrows and worries away. It won’t work. It’s the life or death of her father that weighs heavily on her now. 

She doesn’t know how long she’s sitting in the front yard with the rain pattering down on her shoulders and dripping from her hair, but it’s long enough that she realizes what she has to do to save her father and her family. 

Mulan’s feet lead her to her ancestor’s temple where she lights incense and bows, kneeling before their engraved epitaphs as she prays. She doesn’t ask them what to do, just their protection of her and her family. She knows what she has to do. She has to take her father’s place in the war. 

“I can do this,” she promises her ancestors and herself before she bows again and leaves the temple, running back to the main house. She passes through the dark house careful not to wake anyone. She knows she has to do this quickly, though her heart is racing with adrenaline and fear. 

Mulan takes the flower comb she’d been given for her most recent birthday in anticipation of matchmaking rituals and carries it to her father’s room. Both of her parents sleep soundly, soft snores coming from both as they cuddle together, his arms wrapped around his wife lovingly. He thinks this is the last time he’ll hold her, but Mulan isn’t going to let that happen. Not yet. On his nightstand is the scroll he’d received from the imperial army. Her stomach is in knots as she takes the scroll and leaves the comb in its place. She can’t leave a note telling him where she’s gone or she’ll be found and killed for sure. This way he’ll know where she’s gone. And hopefully, he’ll know that she loves him. 

She makes her way to his training room where she’d seen his armor and had watched him fall. She finds his sword and unsheaths it carefully. It’s heavy but lighter than she’d expected. Weapons always look heavier, weighed down with the memories of war. She slides it back home and opens the wardrobe with the armor to start getting dressed. She begins with the green tie to wrap her long hair into a topknot. 

She slips out of her clothes and tears her base layer dress so she can bind herself. She wraps it tightly around her chest, making sure her breasts are flattened into her, giving her a masculine look and feel. She glances at herself in the mirror with her flattened chest and short, tied hair, and thinks that she might be able to pull this off after all. 

Mulan finishes dressing in her father’s clothes, armor and all, and leaves her dress in the empty wardrobe. She wants to say goodbye to her family, kissing them goodbye as every other man has the ability to do. 

“I love you,” she whispers when she makes it back to the front door. No one answers. No one stirs. She takes a steadying breath and leaves, shutting the door quietly before going to the stable to get her horse. She’s quick with the saddle; just the wood worn smooth from riding and the felt for under and over to protect her and Magu. She rides through the night, her heart slamming to the beat of the galloping hooves. 

There was a life that had been planned out for Fa Mulan and it did not involve crossdressing to go to war. She was facing years away from her family to fight in battle rather than a single year away from them after she’d been matched to the perfect groom and married off. She was dressing in armor rather than dresses and makeup. She would be wielding a sword rather than demurely waving a fan. Whatever her life might have been, it’s been washed away with the rain. Mulan is a soldier now and she will fight for her father, her country, and her honor. 

Mulan looks down the hill from where she’d stopped for the night. The army tents are all set up and soldiers are trickling in. She’s running out of stalling time. Taking a deep breath, she looks back at Magu. He nibbles at the grass contentedly, unaware of how drastically his life is going to change too. 

“How’s this?” she asks before clearing her throat and puffing out her bound chest. “Excuse me,” she tries in a deeper voice, “where do I sign in? Aha! I see you have a sword! I have one too! They’re very manly and tough!” She tries to draw the sword and fumbles. It falls to the dirt at her feet and she sighs. 

She stoops to pick up her sword and frowns. If anyone had been here, they surely would have burst out laughing at her pitiful display. She may look more manly with her cropped hair and flattened chest, but who is going to fall for this charade? If she gets caught, she will be killed. 

“Who am I kidding?” She asks out loud as she grabs Magu’s reins and prepares to walk into camp. “It’s going to take a miracle to survive this.” She closes her eyes and lifts her face to the morning sunlight before whispering, “Ancestors, watch over me.” 

She walks down the hill with Magu by her side and tries to imitate what she thinks is a man’s gait. Women are meant to take small steps and prettily float, her skirts disguising the quick movements. Men have to look tough. They have to take larger steps, much larger than a woman’s and they must puff out their arrogant chests to display their manliness. Right? Their arms must swing to demonstrate their immense strength unlike a woman, whose arms are to remain close to her body. Mulan does her best to walk like a man and feels foolish as she does so. 

“You’ll be safe here,” she says to Magu in a little bit better of a manly voice than before as she ties his reins to a post where a few other horses are. She pets his nose before looking back out into the crowd assembling men. 

There are old men like her father, practicing their movements as they talk to each other. There are obvious newcomers huddled together looking as scared as Mulan feels. Then there are the ones who seem to be somewhere in between. Young and naive, ignorant arrogance radiating from them as they talk and punch each other in the arms. Everyone has their place except Mulan, who clings to her father’s conscription scroll as she spins, wondering who she should stand near and where she would be least conspicuous. 

Suddenly, Mulan walks right into someone. She stumbles backward immediately which only succeeds in making her walk into a second person. She frantically apologizes, spinning to look at both of the men she’s stumbled into. One looks mad enough to start throwing punches, his face bright red and his hands balled into fists. 

“I’m going to hit you so hard, it’ll make your ancestors dizzy,” he threatens.

“Yao, don’t,” a large, kind-looking man tries. Mulan ducks as Yao takes his punch and hits the other man Mulan had run into. 

Mulan scrambles out of the way as the man who took her punch launches himself at Yao and succeeds in knocking over both Yao and the nice guy as he starts to punch back. She breaks into a run to try to get as far from the trio as possible when she hears, “Look! There he goes!” She bolts into the nearest tent and dives under one of the tables that’s holding stacks of bowls and chopsticks. She takes a few panted breaths before slapping a hand over her mouth as the other three run in. 

“Where did he run off to?” one irritated voice demands.

“Through there!” another voice guesses incorrectly. 

“I don’t think he meant any harm,” the third one says as they all leave the tent. 

Mulan lets out her held breath and gets up, brushing herself off before stepping out of the tent with a bowl grabbed from the table. She should have checked first. The three had run out in such a rush, they hadn’t seen the breakfast line of people waiting to be served their rice. Everyone is on the floor, including the server. Rice litters the ground and everyone is groaning. 

One man sits up and recognizes Yao as one of the offenders and punches him. Another hits someone else and anger boils over from one person to the next as punches are thrown. Mulan tries to run but someone grabs her by the front of her shirt. She covers her head and neck, instinct protecting her as she’s thrown to the floor and someone kicks her armor. The fight continues around her, everyone punching, biting, hitting, stomping, kicking, and shouting. She’s never been more out of her element or afraid. 

“Gentlemen!” a new voice breaks through the fighting. Everyone freezes and stands at attention but Mulan stays on the floor, curled into a ball. 

Everything is so quiet after the brawl that Mulan can hear the footsteps of who she guesses is the Captain approaching her even as he walks on grass. She peeks up through her fingers and sees his scowl. He’s young. Much younger than she would have expected of a Captain in the military. Her Captain. She scrambles to her feet as fast as she can and clenches her jaw to try to appear more manly. 

“What’s your name?” he demands. 

Her name. She can’t tell him that her name is Mulan. She can’t use her soft, feminine voice. “Fa Ping,” she answers, holding out her father’s scroll. The name belongs to her stillborn brother. The Captain takes the scroll and she remains at attention as he looks it over. 

“Fa Zhou,” he reads out, looking back up at Mulan. “ _The_ Fa Zhou?” Her father had been an exceptional soldier. He had medals for his service and was well known enough that her Captain knew the name. The Emperor’s advisor does too. He comes out of the Captain’s tent at the name and looks directly at Mulan. 

“I didn’t know Fa Zhou had a son.” It’s strange to look into the eyes of the man who’d overlooked her just yesterday in the square when she’d tried to keep her father from accepting his conscription notice. He hadn’t looked at her then which is why he can’t recognize her now. 

“He doesn’t talk about me much,” Mulan says honestly. It’s her mother’s job to talk about her to try to find a good family for her to marry into. It’s her father’s job to stay out of the womanly affairs and go about his man’s work. 

“Okay, gentlemen,” the Captain says loudly to address everyone around, “thanks to your new friend, Ping, you’ll spend tonight picking up every single grain of rice. And tomorrow the real work begins.” 

As the crowd of soldiers begins picking up rice from the grass, the Captain moves through them, checking conscription scrolls and making sure everyone that is supposed to be there is. Mulan tries not to watch him as he goes. It’s hard not to. His armor gleams and his jaw is chiseled, cut from marble. His almond eyes are such a dark shade of brown they’re almost black and his black hair is neatly tied back with red cloth that matches his cloak. 

“Captain Li,” she overhears someone call him. His name had been on the scroll she’d stolen from her father. Now she knew who he was. Captain Li glances at her as he passes. His hard glare is gone, but he still manages to look displeased and as if she’s the biggest disappointment of a soldier to date.

After the rice is picked clean from the grass, everyone eats in a mess tent, the tables shared by comrades. Mulan takes her seat at the far end of one of the tables and everyone stops talking to look at her. She takes the hint. Not wanting to stir up any more trouble, she leaves to sit outside of the tent, her legs crossed and back straight. 

“Your sleeping assignments, gentlemen!” she hears Captain Li say inside. 

She peeks through the flap and sees him standing at the front of the tent with the Emperor’s Advisor and a sheet of paper. The low hum of conversation stops as everyone turns their attention to finding out who they’ll be sharing a tent with. Mulan feels her stomach flip. She had never in her wildest dreams thought about sleeping in the same quarters as another man until her wedding night. Part of her hopes that she’ll be given her own tent, but the other part of her knows that there’s no way that’s going to happen. Not with how low-ranking she is coupled with the fact that she’s one of, if not the most, hated soldier here. 

“Chien Po,” Captain Li reads. The nice man from earlier smiles around his mouthful of food. “Tieng Yao. Kou Ling.” The one that Yao had punched instead of Mulan grins and claps Yao on the shoulder. They must be friends. “Fa Ping.” 

Three pairs of eyes swivel to hers. She’s sharing a tent with the three men who started it all. She closes the tent flap quickly and groans. This is going to be a long night. She reminds herself that she’s not going to be here for one night. She’s going to be here for as long as training takes and the years that the war will take. Her appetite lost, she forces herself to finish the last few bites and makes her way to the tent she’ll be sharing with the first three men she met. 

There are four mats in the tent. She doesn’t have much. What she does have, she’s wearing. On each bedroll, there are two extra sets of clothes. One is sleepwear. It’s not much different than what she would normally wear to sleep. The other is an extra set of clothes for everyday. It’ll work for training and eventually being worn under her father’s armor when she rides into battle. If she makes it that long. 

Mulan checks outside of the tent. No one else is around. They’re all still eating and talking yards away at the mess tent. The sun is setting, giving the evening a deep orange glow as the night sky moves in. She ducks back into her tent and sheds the heavy armor she’s been wearing since she left her family’s home. She takes off the rest and stops when she comes to her binding. Though she’d like to take it off, she’s not sure she can yet. Maybe in the middle of the night when everyone else is asleep and she can rebind in the morning. She pulls on the pajamas and folds the rest of her clothes neatly, storing them at the end of her mat. 

“Hey,” Mulan practices quietly. “No hard feelings about earlier, right?” She shakes her head. “You sound stupid,” she tells herself, her fake deep voice still on display. “Hello gentlemen,” she mimics Captain Li. That sounds worse somehow. She cringes at herself. “Hey, guys…” Her shoulders sag as she drops her face into her hands in shame. 

“Are you talking to yourself?” Ling asks as they all step into the tent. 

“I was just praying,” Mulan covers. There are no snide remarks for that. Maybe this will all work out. “Hey, about earlier. No hard feelings right?” 

“Right,” Chien Po says with a small smile.

“Right,” Ling says sarcastically.

“Right,” Yao growls, punching his open hand in a mild threat. 

“Have fun trying to find somewhere else to sleep. No one wants to share a tent with you,” Ling says, crossing his arms over his chest. 

“But… I was assigned this tent… And I really am sorry about today,” Mulan flounders. Po is the only one who doesn’t seem to hold a grudge, but his eyes are sad as he watches his two friends gang up on her. Mulan looks between Ling and Yao. Seeing that they’re serious, she leaves the tent. She hears Ling’s laughter behind her as she goes. 

She thinks about walking away, finding Magu, and hiding out in the forest until she can return home, but that isn’t an option. That would certainly have her killed, but her family would be beyond shamed. Her family line would stop as she wouldn’t be eligible to marry anyone. She could find a spot away from the rest of the tents by herself, but that’s dangerous and cold. Instead, she curls up on the outside of the tent beside her empty bedroll. It’s cold, but she’s sheltered by all of the tents. 

When she hears the chatter from the other tents die down and the sun fully sets, she sits up and loosens her binding wrap so she can quickly redo it in the morning without being found out. She lays on her back and looks up at the stars. It’s a beautiful map above her. Usually, she would love the sight. Tonight, it makes her sad. This is her second night away from home. Her second night without a roof over her head. The first night as a soldier in the imperial army. The first night as Fa Ping. 


	2. Chapter 2

Shang will never be the Captain his father thinks he’s ready to be. Not with this group of men who don’t know up from down. He has never been more disappointed in himself. He has never felt more worthless. 

Li Shang had trained his entire life for this. They hadn’t known there would be a war, of course, but that’s the life he had lived because of his father’s job. His father took his job into his life. He taught Shang discipline that was harsh but necessary. Long hours were spent training how to hold himself, how to fight, how to walk and talk with authority. He would make a great Captain. He would be a Leader. He would marry and raise his children just the same. He would bring honor to his family name. 

Unless he brought his family shame with this assignment. He sighs inwardly as he looks out over the new recruits. His father had led away the experienced soldiers, the ones who were already ready to set out, the ones who had medals and scars of time served and maneuvers learned. He had left him with nothing but larva. 

His eyes rake over the men as they eat and joke, talking and comparing. He lists their names in his head as he goes. These will be his soldiers. He will make men out of them yet. He runs through the entire list but one is missing. He scans the room again, putting down his chopsticks as he sits up more. Who is missing? 

Fa Ping. The weakest soldier here. He’d been shunned by the rest of the men here. It isn’t obvious why. He’s small with basically no muscle on him. He could barely do one push-up let alone lift the weights he’d thrown at the base of a pole. It was a rough day for him. 

To be fair, the weights at the bottom of the pole isn’t something Shang expects any of the men to do today. None of them know much. He’d told them the two weights represented discipline and strength and both would be needed to reach the arrow he’d shot into the top of the pole. He expects them to train hard and eventually make it up. Ping had tried. They all had. Each man had lifted the weights and flung himself at his task, failing quickly. Ping had lifted the weights and his arms began to shake. There were jeers from the crowd of men who had failed only moments ago as if they’d forgotten their failures just to mock Ping. 

Shang gets up and walks out of the mess tent. He half expects to find his missing man walking away from his summons, his training, this war. Instead, he finds nothing and no one. He walks toward the tents that are set up for his army. He knows who belongs in each. If Ping isn’t here, he’ll have to send a letter out that he’s AWOL. It’ll be a failure on Shang’s record, a blemish that can’t be scrubbed away. 

Ping is there. He’s in his sleepwear on the bedroll outside of the tent he’s assigned to. His eyes are lifted to the stars and when he moves his arm, he winces. Shang doesn’t say anything. Part of him wants to, but what is there to say? He wants to ask why the other men are treating him so poorly but what business it is of his? He’s their leader. He’s here to train them, not befriend them. Shang turns and walks back to his own tent. 

“Let’s get down to business,” Shang says to his army of imbeciles. He has a lot to teach them in what feels like a too short amount of time. Today they will be out from the time the sun rises to the time the sun sets and hopefully they’ll begin to understand. 

When he tosses them all quarterstaffs, most of them know how to use it basically. Yao uses his to show a quick maneuver that leaves Ping on the floor, his staff clattering to the ground beside him. Shang waits for Ping to stand again before instructing them on how to use it and how to be aware of their bodies and movements as they handle the staff. 

He lets them practice, walking around them to correct posture and form. It’s unclear what happens to Ping, but he cries out and fumbles, spinning and taking out everyone around him. 

“Whoa!” Shang runs over and earns a swift swing to the gut before he grabs it and Ping steadies himself. It would hurt worse if Ping had any strength behind his swing, but as it is, it’s barely enough to make him pause. 

“Sorry, sir,” Ping says shakily. He stands up straight but his face looks like he’s about to crumble.    
  


When Shang gives them bows and arrows and waits to watch just how much of a disaster Ping will be at archery, he’s surprised. Many arrows miss the targets, burying themselves in the dirt or the trees behind. Not Ping’s. Ping is steady, jaw set with precise fingers that release the arrow seamlessly with a soft exhale. The arrow finds its home in the center of the target. Ping doesn’t look up for approval or to see if anyone else saw. He grabs a second arrow and does it again, his chest filling with air and holding for a moment as he lines up the shot. His lips part and his breath releases with the arrow again. Shang looks away. 

Shang is not thinking about his lips. He is not thinking about his fingers, the feathers of the arrow against his pale skin. He is not thinking about the relaxed yet intense look in his eyes or the way a lock of hair had escaped his tie and fallen beside his cheek. Shang is not turning away and correcting someone else purely because watching Ping breathe so deliberately and smoothly was making his heart race. Ping is a man. He’s a man and a soldier recruit and good with a bow and arrow in a way that is erotic. Not erotic. Normal. He’s a man and he’s just doing the training exercise. Really well. He might be a mess at everything else, but he’s amazing at archery. Shang takes a deep breath and shakes his head, clearing his thoughts. 

That only works for a few moments. He turns around, helping Po to lift his elbow more and spots Ping again. He’s separated from everyone else but he’s the only one doing this well. He’s moved his hair back into the tie and is going to his target to grab his arrows. His shoulders are slumped, defeated as if he didn’t just get a bullseye with every shot, as if he doesn’t know just how well he’s doing. Ping keeps his eyes to the ground as he walks back to his place. 

Shang leaves Po and walks past every man until he’s made it back to Ping. “Hold,” he says and Ping lowers his bow and arrow immediately. Ping’s dark eyes are focused on him, his shoulders squared, back straight. Shang swallows. 

“Where did you train?” Shang asks. 

“I didn’t,” Ping says before biting his lip and correcting himself. “My father taught me.” Shang nods. 

“Try this.” Shang grabs one of the training sacks made of netted wire and powder. He doesn’t know why he’s doing this. This isn’t scheduled for weeks and no one else is ready. Maybe he wants to show off for Ping but why would he do that? Maybe he wants Ping to show off for him… No. Shang throws a ball and shoots it into a tree with his own arrow. 

Ping nods and takes the second sack from Shang with a steady hand. He throws it and follows it for a moment with the arrow before releasing. He misses, but the arrow hits the same sack that Shang had pinned to the tree. Shang holds his breath for a moment, not at all watching Ping’s shoulders relax. 

“Very good,” Shang nods.   
  
“I missed,” Ping says.   
  
“You almost had it. You just have to adjust your speed and your aim. Before, your target was steady. Since this one moves, you shoot where it will be. Not where it is.” He is not using this as an excuse to be close to him. He’s teaching. That’s it. 

The next few hours will be spent on this small mountain. They’ll all have to run up, weights on their shoulders as they make their way to the stream at the top where they’ll have lunch. Each man grabs a staff and situates the sandbag weights on the ends of them as Shang did. Each of them hoists it up onto their shoulders and starts their way up the mountain, Shang leading them. He falls back to check form and to make sure no one is falling behind, checking off the names in his mind as they pass him. 

Once everyone has passed him, he runs ahead again, yelling to his soldiers as he goes. “Pick up the pace, gentlemen! Time is racing for us! No time to spare!” He continues this pattern until he’s counting off his men and doesn’t see Ping. 

He runs down behind the last of his soldiers and finds Ping. He’s out of breath, sweat running down the side of his flushed face. His legs shake as he takes another step. 

“Come on,” Shang says to himself, willing Ping to be able to make it. His eyes roll up in his head and he collapses. Shang drops his weights and crouches beside him. “Ping…” He takes the weight from his shoulders and turns him over. “Ping?” His heart is not racing. He’s fine and so is Ping. His eyes blink a few times, focusing on Shang. 

“What..?” Ping’s voice is a little high and strange. He sits up too quickly and sways. 

“You fainted for a second. Take it easy.” Shang waits as Ping steadies. “Can you stand?” Shang stands and picks up his weighted staff as well as Ping’s as he waits for Ping to stand. He looks up the mountain to see the other men have continued on and are actually making progress. He looks back at Ping, his heart softening a little. No. 

Ping braces himself against the wall. “I can do this.” He takes a step away from the wall and Shang catches him. He’s light and holding him makes Shang’s stomach flip. His heart quickens and Shang clenches his jaw tight as he fits Ping against his side. He’ll help him to walk until he can stand on his own. Then he’ll let go. He has to. The touch is burning him. 

They don’t speak as they walk. Ping’s weight against him feels heavier than the four bags of weights on his one shoulder. His throat is tight. He can’t look down at him no matter how badly he wants to. He doesn’t want to though. He really doesn’t. Shang takes a deep breath. 

When they catch up to the group, Shang leaves Ping at the back of the line without his staff. He ignores the lingering feeling of where Ping had been, his arm around his back, their sides pressed together. He runs back to the head of the group and stays there, only turning every so often to make sure everyone is still there. He is. 

Shang makes an effort not to focus on Ping for the rest of the day. At least no more than he has to. The man can start fights by breathing in the wrong direction. The rest of the day is spent with regular exercises. He wants to be done for the day. He wants to drop them all off at the mess tent and go for a long run like he used to at home when he needed to think. Unfortunately, he has to whip these boys into shape. 

By the time Shang has a moment to himself, the moon is high in the sky and the recruits are all stumbling off to bed, eyes glazing over. He’d tried to escape during dinner, but the Emperor’s Advisor had to go over the day with him. He had to detail his training plans and give updates about his progress so he could make his notes and determine Shang’s future in the army. It makes his blood boil, these meetings that seem pointless. He’s doing his job. He doesn’t need a babysitter. 

“Let’s get down to business,” Shang whispers under his breath as he starts a walk that he knows has no chance of carrying him far, “to defeat the huns…” He takes the tie from his hair and runs a hand through it. He looks over at the white tents where his weary troops are all resting their aching limbs. Some excel in some places. All of them fail in others. None of them are ready. “Did they send me daughters when I asked for sons? You’re the saddest bunch I ever met, but you can bet before we’re through…” He sighs and looks away. “Mister, I’ll make a man out of you.” Ping’s face flashes in his eyes, dark eyes determined even as he fails. Shang breaks into a run. 

“Tranquil as a forest,” he pants as he weaves through the trees at the edge of his camp, “but on fire within.” He feels the heat from Ping’s skin against his again and forces himself to push faster, running from the feeling. Running from the confused panic at his core. “Once you find your center, you are sure to win.” 

“You’re a spineless, pale, pathetic lot and you haven’t got a clue,” he continues as he watches the tents pass by through the trees. “Somehow I’ll make a man out of you.” He lets himself run faster, taking him farther. He runs until he’s far from the snores, far from the fatigued, far from them all. He makes his way up a steep hill and stops at the top, panting. 

He looks down over his entire camp from his vantage point as he leans on his knees, breathing hard. Ping’s tent blends in with the rest, but then he knows that Ping isn’t sleeping in a tent. He’s sleeping under the stars, shunned by his peers. Shang pulls in a ragged breath and stands up straighter.

“I’m never going to catch my breath,” he sighs. “Say goodbye to those who knew me. Hope he doesn’t see right through me…” Shang sits down on the hill and rubs his hands over his face and through his hair again. He’s in trouble. He closes his eyes and lies down in the grass with a thud. 

“Be a man.” He’s a man. Shang’s heart pounds. “You must be swift as a coursing river.” 

“Be a man.” He’s handsome and soft-spoken. Shang takes a deep breath. “With all the force of a great typhoon.”   
  
“Be a man.” He has kind eyes that burn with an intensity that match no other person here and they bore into Shang’s soul when he looks at him. “With all the strength of a raging fire.” 

Shang covers his burning face. All he can see behind his closed lids is Ping’s face, his eyes on the sky as he stayed outside of his tent. The night sky might as well belong to him now. “Mysterious as the dark side of the moon…” 


	3. Chapter 3

Mulan has never felt such aching pain in all her life. The dresses she had worn once weighed what she had once thought was a lot, but all she had to do when she wore those was walk prettily and wave a fan. Serving tea was done kneeling and was fairly easy if she wasn’t nervous and spilling all over a matchmaker.

When she changes her clothes to go to bed, she sees the bruises. Her pale skin has blossoms of purple over her shoulders, ribs, thighs, and feet. She doesn’t even want to look under the binding. She pulls on her nightclothes and goes back out to her bedroll that remains outside of the tent. 

It’s been four weeks and she’s surprised she’s still alive. The training is rough. The only thing she seems to be good at is archery, but Captain Li has stopped talking to her. On the second day of training, he’d told her how well she was doing. He’d even set her up to further her skill. When she fainted on the mountain, he looked like he cared as he pulled her up and helped her to walk. She seemed to have one friend in the sea of hundreds. But then she woke the next morning and he barely looked in her direction. She was shut out again. An outsider to everyone. Including Captain Li. 

She knows that the way she feels about him is a little more than someone should feel for their Captain. She’s never met a man she wasn’t related to and now she’s surrounded by many. Her heart only quickens for one. She only blushes for one. She only wants to impress one. But for a month, he’s shut down the side of him that wanted to help her up the mountain. 

She’s been Fa Ping for four weeks. Her bound chest swells with pride that she knows no one else feels for her. Mulan has to be proud of herself. Her parents can’t be. Either worried or dishonored, they don’t know how she’s doing. They don’t know that today she’d managed to hit three moving targets. They don’t know that she can lift weight and is learning how to do so many things she never could have imagined. She’s made no friends, but she’s making progress with her training and that has to be enough. 

She hears footsteps and turns around, expecting maybe her tentmates who hate her. Instead, she finds Captain Li making his way through the rows of tents toward her. She stands, her feet at the edge of her mat. 

“Did you eat, soldier?” Captain Li asks when he spots Mulan. 

“Yes, sir,” she says. She eats quickly and alone, no one to sit with and no one to talk about her day with. She doesn’t want to be ridiculed while trying to scarf down her meals so she does it as quickly as she can. 

“You’re weak.” It feels like a stab. His eyes are narrowed and his jaw clenched. Has he not seen how hard Mulan has been trying? Has he not noticed her small victories? She can lift a weight now. She can go up that mountain without help. It takes longer and she’s out of breath and shaking by the time she reaches the top, but she can do it. Has he missed all of that? She keeps her mouth shut, wilting inside as she realizes that yes, she’s the only one who notices. The only one who cares. “If there wasn’t a war going on and you weren’t assigned to be here by law, I would send you home.” 

“Sir?” She can’t go home. She has to fight in her father’s place. She has to bring honor to the Fa family. She has to do this and prove to everyone and herself that she can do this. She wonders what happened to the kind Captain. The one who’s black eyes had gone soft as she came to. The one who taught her about moving targets with a gentle voice. “I’m trying.”

“You’re failing.” It sounds final. The weight of the words crashes down on her already bruised shoulders. She bows her head. She’d meant to nod to tell him she understood, but she can’t lift her head again. She can’t look at him. She’s failing her Captain. She’s failing her family. 

When he walks away she ducks into her tent and covers her face as she wills herself not to cry. Her breath is ragged but she will not cry. She will not fail. She sets her jaw and pulls back on her training gear, leaving her sleepwear folded on the floor. She will not fail. She can do this. She will bring honor to her family and her army and to China. She will do this. She has to. 

Mulan runs from her tent. She’s not terrible at running. It took some time, but she’s actually quite fast. She zigzags through the city of tents, tears burning in her eyes. She’s been training all day. Her entire body protests the extra push she’s doing now, but she has to do better. She makes it out of the tents and into a clearing on the other side. She’s still within their camp, but away from the others. Removed as she’s always been. By the time she stops running, the entire camp is silent, everyone either falling asleep or already dreaming. Her chest is heaving and she wipes her sweat from her brow. She’s made it back to the center of their camp. 

“ _ This represents discipline.”  _ Captain Li had said, a heavy weight being handed to Yao. “ _ And this represents strength. _ ” A second weight was handed to him. “ _ You need both to reach the arrow.” _ She looks up the pole that she’s standing in front of and stares at the distant arrow. 

“I will not fail. I cannot fail,” she whispers. She grabs the two weights and hugs the pole, trying to scramble up but only falling. She huffs and looks at the two weights in her hands and then the pole. Strength and discipline. Together, not apart. She wraps her arms around the pole again and winds the ties of the weights together so she can use it to hoist herself up. It works. 

She can do this. She sets her jaw and her arms shake. Her foot slips and she falls back to the floor. Mulan gets back up and glares at the pole. This is between her and the arrow. Everything else fades away around her as she goes again. 

The sun is waking up by the time Mulan nears the top of the pole. The arrow is the only thing she can see, her eyes unwilling to give up her goal. Sweat rolls down her back. Her arms and legs have forgotten how to shake from fatigue, too overworked to protest anymore. She grits her teeth. 

“Ping!” Someone below her shouts. She ignores it. Her foot slips and she grips tighter to keep from falling. She snarls, something she’s never done before. She can do this. She will do this. She is not going to fail. She is not going to be the weakest link of her family, unable to be matched. She is not going to be the weakest link of this army, unable to perform the tasks. 

She lifts herself up onto the top of the pole, perching herself there and wrapping her legs tightly around it to keep from swaying. She takes a deep breath and rests the weights over her shoulders before she takes the arrow from the wood. She did it. She holds the arrow delicately, her fingers trembling just enough to be noticeable. 

There’s a crowd of the men who train beside her every day. They’ve all forgotten about their breakfast, standing at the bottom of the pole as they stare up at her. Captain Li emerges from his tent and Mulan throws the arrow. It sticks into the ground in between his feet. He takes a shocked step back and looks up. And then...

He smiles. 

She doesn’t care. She doesn’t care how it changes his face or how his tanned skin looks perfect in the early morning light. She doesn’t care that his smile burns brighter than the sun and sears her skin. She doesn’t care that he looks proud. And the last one she isn’t lying about. She doesn’t need him to be proud. She’s proud. She’s proven herself. She retrieved the arrow. But, it doesn’t hurt to see that gleam in his eye before he stoops to take the arrow from the grass. 

She smiles back. 

Mulan makes her way down into cheers from the men who hate her. They seem to have forgotten in all of the excitement of the first person reaching the arrow. She looks for Captain Li among them, but he’s gone, vanished. Maybe he’s not as proud as she thought. 

Mulan has been awake for twenty-seven hours by the time she makes it to the mess hall to grab breakfast. She takes her bowl and disappears from the crowds to press herself into a corner and eat as quickly as she can. She’s starving from working all night. She’s parched and practically drowns herself in the water she’s provided. She leaves her dishes, sparkling clean as she was raised to do, to dry near where everyone else just piles their dishes to be cleaned by their cook. 

The adrenaline is wearing off. Her legs are ready to give way. Her eyelids feel heavy. Her arms feel limp at her sides. She forces herself to walk into the field of tents. There’s no way she’ll be able to sleep. She knows there is a full day of training ahead of her. Her muscles groan at the prospect. Mulan makes it to her tent but decides it would be the worst idea she’d ever had to lie down right now. There is little to no chance of her ever standing again if she sat down right now.   
  


It’s been forty-three hours when Mulan collapses onto her bedroll beside the tent. It takes no time for her to fall asleep. She never even made it out of her training clothes. 

Her day had been filled with congratulations for the feat of strength displayed that morning. They had run in formation for six hours. She’d balanced a pail of water on her head and used the staff to block rocks that were thrown at her by the other recruits. It was the first time she’d managed to keep all of the water in the pail. She’d only been struck by one rock. She’d like to say she kept up on the way up the mountain as she carried her weights, but she was already pushing past too many other warnings her body was sending up. She was too slow to catch a fish, but she had hopped on the exposed rocks in a stream without slipping. When she picked up her bow, Captain Li had brought her her arrow. 

Mulan hadn’t eaten dinner. She had been too exhausted to try. When they had made it back to camp, Mulan drank water and splashed water over her face before she’d stumbled her way to bed and started to dream about Captain Li. 

_ Mulan has her bow up, an arrow lined up and ready. She feels his arms around her. His chest is pressed to her back and his arms line up with hers. She presses against him and takes a deep breath. “Steady,” he whispers in her ear, his lips grazing her skin. She’s never been more unsteady. She releases the arrow and lowers the bow, not bothering to look to see if she hit her mark. She turns around in his arms and looks up into his dark eyes. They search hers.  _

_ Her hair is long and flowing in the wind. She wears a dress instead of her training gear. And her lips are a breath away from his. She can’t focus on anything else. His breath is hot against her skin. Their noses brush together, but their lips hesitate, drawing out the suspense in her heart. His hand comes up to her face and she feels his rough thumb run over her soft cheek. She closes her eyes, her heart beating wildly against his chest.  _

Mulan sits up on her bedroll, heart slamming against that cage that is her chest. It’s early, but it’s just about time to wake up anyway. She feels the burning in her cheeks and gets up quietly before making her way to the lake that’s in the nearby trees. She’s bathed there before to rinse the sweat and ache from her, but this morning, she just needs it to cool the heat inside of her. 

She walks through the trees until she finds the edge of the water. The water is clear, shimmering with the predawn light. She disturbs it, kneeling and scooping it into her hands to splash her face. It’s freezing and still can’t douse the fires. She stands again, drying her face on her sleeve. 

“Oh.” Captain Li is there, standing between her and the way back to the tents. Her heart stutters. His shirt is open, his bare chest toned and sculpted from marble. Not that she’s looking. “I didn’t realize anyone else was awake,” he says when she fails to say anything at all. 

“I’m sorry,” she manages, voice thick as she tries to keep from drooling over him. His eyes are softer before he has to address the entire camp as Captain. 

“No.” Neither of them moves. She’s afraid to. He might hear the drumming of her heart if she steps any closer. Her eyes flicker from his eyes to his lips. The same lips that taunt her in her dreams with almost kisses. She blushes again and forces her eyes back to his. “You’ve… you’ve been doing… well.”

“Thank you.” She bows her head and stops herself from curtsying. She feels naked under his basic observation. That he noticed her at all makes her feel exposed. 

He steps forward and she sucks in a breath, holding it though she doesn’t mean to. She watches his eyes dip from her eyes to her lips and back up. She longs for his touch. She didn’t know she could feel like this. Perhaps because she had never met a match. Maybe because she hadn’t met him. 

“Ping…” 

“Yes, Captain?” She’s breathless and she knows he can hear it. 

“Shang,” he says quietly, his voice raw. He takes another step. Their eyes are locked and she barely notices her chin tilting up to look up at him as he gets closer. 

“Shang…” she repeats softly. His hand comes up to her face and his nose brushes hers, their lips barely touching. Her eyes close and she kisses him, her arms winding around his broad shoulders and pulling him tight against her. One of his arms circles her waist and pulls tight. His lips are hot on hers. Her heart is on fire, her lips craving more. Their lips part to deepen the kiss and she feels his tongue against her bottom lip. Her butterfly-filled stomach isn’t helped by this. She can feel his strong body against hers, his rough hand at the nape of her neck, his soft lips devouring her whole. 

She isn’t supposed to kiss a man until her wedding. She’s kissing her Captain. Her Captain who thinks she’s a man. She gasps and steps away from him. 

“I’m sorry,” he says quickly. Her hand is at her mouth, tracing his kiss into her skin. 

“I…” She needs to leave. She needs to go back to her tent. She needs to get as far from this man as she can. This man who does things to her that she didn’t know possible. Makes her dream of his touch, makes her burn for him, makes her heart race. This man who may prefer the company of other men. Gay or not, she finds herself in his arms again, their lips crashing together as he pins her to a tree. 

His tongue in her mouth, she sucks hard and tries to pull him closer, her hands running over his perfectly sculpted body. One of Shang’s hands is on her hip, the other has fingers weaving into her hair, pulling it from the knot. She can feel something hard between them. When she presses against him, he groans into her mouth. 

“We can’t do this,” he says, breaking the kiss and breathing heavily. She doesn’t say anything and he hasn’t moved away from her. She gently pulls his face back to hers and kisses with a little less intensity. A lingering peck. “I’m sorry.”  
  
“Why?” Their faces are still close together, the tips of their noses still touching as if it might kill them to be any farther from each other. 

“I was hard on you because I wanted this,” he says with a heavy breath. “I was too hard on you because of this.” 

“I wanted this,” she whispers. He kisses her again and she wonders how she managed to go four weeks without this feeling, without his touch. 

“The others can’t know,” he says harshly. She nods. The others can’t know a lot of things. 

“They don’t speak to me anyway.” She smiles a little but he frowns. “No one will know.” She swallows, their eyes connected and forcing all of the air from her lungs. “Sir.” 


	4. Chapter 4

Ping is pressed between Shang and a tree, their lips crashing, fingers wound together, hips pressed together. They’re starving for each other. He has to stop. He has to. But Ping’s teeth are in his bottom lip and it feels so good. He’s hard and every time Ping presses harder against him, he lets out a groan he can’t keep down. 

There’s a holler from the tents, the men waking up. Shang and Ping separate quickly, Shang taking several steps away. He looks over his shoulder, his heart settling when he sees that no one is coming. When he turns around again, Ping is gone. 

Shang turns in a circle, scanning the trees for him, but Ping is too fast. He runs his hands over his face. This morning doesn’t feel real. He’d come here to rinse his nightmares and insecurities away and found Ping. He hadn’t meant to give in to the fantasies, the feelings that have been plaguing him since Ping had stepped foot in this camp. He hadn’t meant to, but then… He was kissed back. Shang’s fingers linger at his lips. Ping had kissed him back. He’d whispered that he wanted this too. He’d kissed him back feverishly like Shang was the only person Ping had ever dreamed of kissing. 

This is bad. Bad in a Shang has never felt more turned on in his life kind of way. Bad in a he might have just realized he’s never wanted someone as badly as he’s wanted Ping and now he has him. Secretly, but he has him. Bad in a Captain is definitely not supposed to be making out with his soldiers kind of way. This is bad in the best possible way. 

Shang walks to the other side of the tree and presses his back against it as he yanks his pants down and wraps his hand around himself. This certainly isn’t the first time he’s touched himself while thinking about Ping, but it is the first time the ghost of his lips is still on his mouth. It’s the first time he can still hear the small whimper. 

He closes his eyes, Ping’s eyes, dark, determined, gorgeous, fill his mind. He imagines his shirt slipping off of his slender shoulders. The flat planes of his chest. His pants on the floor. Shang’s name on his pink lips. Shang’s hand pumps hard and fast as he swoons, weak under his fantasies. Ping had kissed him back. 

Shang had only meant to kiss him gently once his mind was made up to kiss him. He’d only meant for a simple kiss, a brush of the lips, a confession of sorts. He hadn’t expected the urgency, the passion, or the need that Ping answered with. He hadn’t known. 

“ _ Shang _ ,” Ping had breathed. It’s enough. Shang spills over and moans as he does. He doesn’t dare say his name out loud even though he thinks it. He doesn’t let his name pass his lips as he comes alone even as it coats his tongue, begging to be whispered. 

Shang swallows hard. He doesn’t want to leave this spot. He wants to pull Ping against him again and kiss him tenderly as they lie together. He opens his eyes and pulls up his pants, ending the fantasy. He has to go to work. He has to pretend that he didn’t spend his morning with Ping’s tongue in his mouth. He takes a deep breath. Shang walks out of the forest and into his role as Captain, leader, his heart locking away the secret for now. 

The men are sparring, paired up and finally skilled enough to actually do this exercise. They wouldn’t have been able to do this weeks ago. Not one of them had the strategy, form, or technique to be able to. Now they had a little bit of each. Some more than others. Yao is exceptionally strong and now he knows how to use it. He’s paired with Ping who is holding his own for the moment. Shang doesn’t watch, looking away and focusing on the other groups. If he watches Ping, he’ll get stuck watching all day. 

He corrects Ling’s footwork and watches for a moment before moving on. One man laughs as he falls, a loss of balance rather than a kick. Shang helps him find the right stance to keep his balance. Ping cries out. Shang isn’t sure why it’s the loudest sound or how his heart is already trained to drop everything and go to him the second he needs, but Shang turns and finds Ping on the ground with a proud Yao standing opposite him. 

Ping’s nose is bleeding and he keeps touching his eye gently. He winces and wipes his nose, the blood smearing on his hand. Shang fights the urge to go to him. He wants to. He wants to so badly. There’s nothing to do. They’re fighting. That’s the exercise. His brain loses the battle, his heart leading him across the yard. 

“Remember to cover your face. Keep your arms close to your body and use your legs. Yao has shorter legs so that’s your advantage.” Shang helps position Ping, his fingers itching to lace with his. His breath hitches when Ping looks up into his eyes, but he doesn’t dare do anything. “Again,” he says. They start to spar and Shang nods as Ping covers his face as he ducks under a punch. He’ll be okay. Moving on. Shang walks away. 

Shang writes his signature on a scroll where the Emperor’s Advisor indicates. He’s free. This signature frees him. He’s no longer under the constant watch of the Advisor. He will be leaving with the morning light with his reports that Shang is doing better than anticipated. That all of his men are progressing and that soon they’ll be ready to join the ranks in battle. 

“Are we done?” Shang asks as he stands. It’s not news to either of them that they don’t like each other and now they don’t even really have to pretend. 

“We are,” he says in a clipped voice. Shang bows his head and leaves the tent. He takes a deep breath, his lungs filling with the freedom, tension melting from his shoulders. 

He walks to the mess tent to grab his dinner. His eyes scan the groups of friends. He already knows he won’t find Ping among them. He’s not even on the outskirts of the groups sitting alone. He’s just not here. Shang takes a bite of his food, tuning out the conversations around him that fill the tent with their noise. He chews slowly as he stares into his bowl before he swallows and looks up. He doesn’t want to be in this tent. He gets up and no one notices as he leaves. Isolation amid the masses. 

He finishes eating outside before he decides to go for a walk. He needs one despite working all day. He can’t rest. He’s never been able to rest. He works all day, running, sparring, lifting weights, training hundreds of men, and still, he needs to stretch his legs and get away from it all. When his mind is far from calm, so are his legs, restless and itching to take him away from it all. 

“Hello,” he hears someone say nearby. The voice sounds strange. “No.” They clear their throat. “Hey.” Ping. “I, uh… I just wanted to talk… We, uh…” Shang can’t tell if he’s talking to himself or if he’s with someone. He swallows a pang of jealousy but he can’t stop himself from continuing toward his voice. If he sees that he’s with someone else then he’s made a mistake and he can shut this all down. He can lock down his heart. He can pretend it never happened. 

But Ping is alone. 

“Why do you sound so stupid?” Ping groans into his hands before sinking to the ground. Shang clears his throat. “Oh! H- Hey! Uh... Hi…” 

Shang doesn’t mean to smile, but how can he not? “Hi.” Shang takes a seat in the grass opposite Ping. “What did you want to talk about?”  
  
“Oh, you heard that.” The blush in Ping’s cheeks deepens and he rubs a hand over his neck. Shang nods patiently and leans against the rock behind him. “I don’t know anything about you…” 

“There isn’t a lot to know,” Shang says honestly. He was born into this life. He was trained from the time he could walk to be where he is now, a Captain. Before the war, he’d been close to marriage, not that he’d ever met the women that the matchmaker was screening for him. He would have met her at their wedding and probably left her to raise his children while he ended up where he is now. But the match was never made. He never married. 

“What did you do before this?” Ping gestures back toward the camp. His voice is soft and it almost hurts to be sitting so close even though there is a gap between them. 

“Trained for this.” Shang mimics Ping’s gesture toward the camp. “What did you do?”

“Uh…” His eyes drop to the ground before inching their way back up to Shang’s face. “My family has a farm. I worked with the animals.” He looks sad, his lips turning down without turning into a full frown. “I’m not the pride of my family or my Army,” he says so quietly it almost gets taken away on the light breeze. 

“Your Army is lucky to have you,” Shang says a little too strongly. He has no idea how well he’s been doing or how stark a contrast there is between his ability now and his considerable lack of ability a month ago. “You are improving. Not to mention your determination outranks most of the men here.”

He looks shocked but says nothing. The silence stretches and Shang watches Ping rest his shin on his knee as he thinks. His eyes are a tease to what is going on in his mind. He can tell that he’s thinking but the contents are shielded. 

“I don’t know what’s important,” Ping says with a small laugh, lifting his chin from his knee again. “I don’t know what I want to talk to you about. I want to know your favorite color and what you dream about. I want to know if you have ever cried in the rain or cooked your favorite food.”

“My favorite color?” Shang smiles a little and Ping blushes. “Red.” Ping’s shoulders relax and one of his legs stretches out, his foot close to Shang’s. “I have cooked when I had to. We won’t have a chef out there. During the war, we’re on our own. I have never cried in the rain, but there’s still time.” 

“And your dreams?” Ping asks tentatively. Shang can’t look away from his eyes. He feels them boring into his soul, claiming him. 

“You.” His heart slams, but he doesn’t move. Ping sits up straighter. The word hangs there and Shang swallows hard. 

“My favorite color is any color dark enough to become black seamlessly like the sky at night,” Ping says. He nods up, but his eyes don’t follow, stuck on Shang. “I used to love to cook with my grandmother, not for the food. She had stories to tell and I ate those up faster than any dish we ever made. I cried in the rain the night I got my conscription notice.” 

“And your dreams?” Shang asks, pulling at a blade of grass that he’s not looking at. 

Ping smiles a little. “You.” 

Shang moves and pulls Ping against him, a tender kiss between them. Ping’s freshly calloused hand rests just over Shang’s rapidly drumming heart, soaking in each beat that’s just for him. Their lips part but they don’t move away, breathing each other in. Shang is memorizing every color, every line, every plane of Ping’s face. The rich brown of his eyes, the petal pink of his kissed lips, the rose blush of his usually pale cheek. 

“What?” Ping asks when Shang’s eyes finally rest on Ping’s again. 

“What is it about you that makes me feel like this and infuriates everyone else?” 

“Like what?” Ping asks, ignoring the second part of the question. 

“Like if I’m not near you, I’ll fall apart.” Ping smiles and looks down. “Like I have to do better than I ever have before. Go farther. Run faster. Make a difference. Succeed with everyone’s training.”  
  
“You _are_ succeeding with training.”  
  
“Because it’s my job. Because it is an assigned task. And now because of you.” He lifts Ping’s chin and kisses him again. 

His mind is still caught on the fact that he’s kissing a man. Holding a man in his arms as he would a wife. Dreaming, longing, breathing in this man who makes Shang’s stomach twist up in knots and his heart forget how to beat properly. He ignores the panic, the confusion, the protests. He doesn’t care as long as he gets to keep this. As long as he gets to taste Ping on his lips. 

“I have to go,” Ping says, resting his forehead against Shang’s as he bites his lip. He looks pained as he disentangles himself from Shang’s arms and stands. “Sleep well… Shang.” 

“Ping…” 

He watches Ping disappear before he stands and walks slowly back to his tent. A farm boy who likes to cook when the company is good. He can picture him in the kitchen laughing at an old woman’s stories. The image of Ping crying in the rain sticks though. He can see it clearly. The rain mixing with his tears as his shoulders shake and his hand tightens around the scroll. 

He feels as though in a few simple sentences, Ping has let him in on intimate secrets. Shang glances up at the sky, a blue so dark it’s almost black with pinpricks of starlight. As if he needed another reason to relinquish the sky to Ping, give his heart another reason to ache. 

For weeks, Shang had been able to tell himself that it was a crush and it would pass. For weeks, he failed in convincing himself that he would get over it. His day is marked by the beginning with a heated kiss by the lake and the ending with a gentle kiss in the grass. 

Shang closes himself into his tent and changes into his sleepwear. Ping is likely doing the same. He shakes his head, clearing the thought away as he grabs the tooth powder to rinse his mouth with. It feels like washing the kisses away, but he knows he’ll get more. He has to get more. Shang lies on his bedroll and shuts his eyes tight. Crush is apparently not a big enough word. 

Shang wakes up with a start but he doesn’t know why. It’s dark in his tent, the sun not having yet joined him in greeting the day. He sits up and listens for a moment. His entire body is alert, his ears taking in the sound of the wind, a leaf crunch, a muffled grunt. Shang grabs his staff and peeks out between the tent flaps. He can’t see anything. He hears the sound of a kick and another grunt. He steps out of his tent, ready to protect or attack. 

Ping is standing in front of the pole that he’d climbed in a fighting position. Shang looks around to try to find the attacker and finds no one, but Ping ducks with a swoop, and when he comes back up, uses he the heel of his hands to strike the pole twice with viper speed. He brings his hands back to cover his face and ducks, sweeping his leg out and just missing the pole with his ankle. When he lifts himself to his very short full height, he kicks out, his foot hitting the pole. 

“What are you doing?” Shang asks. It can’t be later than three in the morning and Ping looks wide awake. 

“I couldn’t sleep,” Ping says, suddenly standing at attention. “Sir.” Shang waves him off. 

“Why?” 

“I know that I’m weaker than the rest of the men here. I know that I dishonor my father’s medals and military career. I dishonor him and you. I will do better.” 

Shang silently kicks himself for the day he’d read his father’s name and not bothered to hide how impressed he was with the man. 

“Okay.” Shang drops his staff in front of his tent and walks toward Ping. 

“What?”

“Get into your stance,” Shang says, falling into a natural fighting form. 

“Why?”

“A pole isn’t going to fight back. Fight me right now so I can go back to bed.” Ping moves his feet and brings his hands up, his soft expression suddenly guarded with a shield of determination. Shang nods to cue Ping to start it and they begin. 


	5. Chapter 5

Mulan wakes up slowly. The first thing that is obvious is that she’s in a tent. This is the first time in a month that she has woken up inside. The next thing that should have been the first thing is that Shang’s arm is looped around her middle. Her back is pressed against his chest, her fingers laced with his. When he breathes out, she feels it on her neck. She just spent the night in a tent with a man. Not just in the same tent. She spent the night in a man’s arms. She lets go of his hand and he nuzzles into her neck, pulling her tighter. She can’t help the smile that crosses her lips. 

Nothing had happened between them. Not really. He had found her practicing her fighting techniques and had sparred with her. She hadn’t won, but he’d helped her up after pinning her to the ground and kissed her gently, quickly, before realizing they were out in the open even if it was still dark. They’d gone back to his tent to talk. Just to talk. Except no talking had happened. “You drive me insane,” he’d whispered against her lips. She remembers drifting to sleep in his arms, their lips still touching, too tired to keep kissing. 

Both of their ties are on the floor. Mulan turns over in his arms and looks into his sleeping face. His silky black hair is splayed out. She wants to run her fingers through it. She lifts her hand to caress his cheek and move his hair away from his face but she hesitates, pulling her hand back as her fingers curl into her palm.

Once upon a time, her hands had been soft, as a woman’s should be. They had been perfect for whatever future husband she might have had. Hands soft enough to stroke a cheek, to run through silky hair, to touch him. Her hands are rough now. From the staff she knows how to use in a fight. From the weights she carries every day. From her training to be a soldier. Her training to be a man. 

“Shang…” she whispers instead. His eyes snap open and calm when he sees her. His hand comes up to her face and gently pulls her face to his, kissing gently. 

“Wait.” He sits up a little and looks around. “You’re still here.” His hair falls below his shoulders in waves from being tied tightly. He looks from the entrance of his tent and back to Mulan who is still in his arms. He kisses her again, one of his hands tangling into her hair. 

“I should go before the others wake,” she murmurs against his lips. 

“Yes.” He kisses her again and her legs fall to either side of his hips as he pulls her up onto his lap. “You should go.”  
  
“Definitely,” she breathes, his lips trailing across her jaw and down her neck. Her fingers are in his hair, holding him against her. She’s achingly aware of how close he is to finding out a secret that could kill her and lose him all credibility. She can’t let him go lower even though she wants him to. She can feel that he’s hard again, pressed against a part of her that certainly doesn’t belong to a man. 

They hear feet outside and Shang’s kisses stop. “Go.” She gets off of him and grabs her tie from the floor, winding her hair up on top of her head. He gets up and pulls her back to him as she giggles. He’s smiling too as he kisses her again and again. 

“I have to go,” she whispers through her laugh. She kisses him again.

“Out the back. They’re awake.” She nods and heads to the back of the tent but his fingers catch hers. “Kiss me.” She pulls him down to her, kissing him deeply and feeling his arms around her again. 

“I’m going,” she says. 

“No… I will cancel the day. I will end this war for another kiss from you,” he pleads.  
  
“If you could end the war with a wish of a kiss from me, then I suggest you do it,” she says with a small smile. “You can’t cancel the day either.”  
  
“Stop talking sense when you’re scrambling my brains,” he groans as she folds herself against him again. His lips are soft and hot and she wants to do so much more than kiss him. “Now go.” One last quick peck and she ducks out of his tent.   


It’s two weeks later when Shang challenges any man who thinks he’s ready to spar with him. Ling practically hides while Yao steps forward. He has already separated himself as one of the strongest among the recruits. Of course, he’s going to challenge Shang. 

Everyone watches intently as their Captain lets Yao take his hits, dodging and deflecting each one. He moves swiftly, focused, and almost relaxed. Sweat glistens on his tanned skin but that’s more from the sun than the physical exertion. Either way, Mulan can’t look away. His movements are effortless. Finally, he makes his moves. Two punches up high that Yao blocks but leaves the rest of him unprotected. Shang kicks, the top of his body parallel to the ground, legs straight. Yao grunts as he falls. He gets up and bows before returning to the line. 

Mulan steps out of the line as Ping and faces her boyfriend as her Captain. Something flickers in his eyes but only for a moment. It’s so quick, she’s not even sure if it was a trick of the light. Captain Li nods and they face each other. She takes a steadying breath before standing tall and striking fast. He’s ditched the defensive strategy that he used for Yao. His hands remain flat, but he deflects her blow and kicks. She jumps over his sweeping leg and kicks straight toward his chest. He dodges by leaning back, his back straight and chin lifted to the sky. She lands and punches before he has the chance to retaliate. His arm moves hers and he grabs her wrist, redirecting her. He spins, his arm leading, ready to slice her in half. She ducks and jumps back up with her own spin move, her foot connecting with his jaw. It’s just about as short a fight as Yao got, only Captain Li is on the ground now. 

Shang brings his hand to his face before grinning. Pride shines in his dark eyes. She wants to throw her arms around him but she stays where she is. He gets back up and she bows to him. “Sir.” Everyone is cheering again. Like they had that morning that she’d retrieved the arrow. Someone pats her on the back and she flinches but no one notices in all of the commotion. She catches Shang’s eye and he smiles wider. Her heart swells and she sighs out a breath of relief. 

When training is finished, Mulan grabs her soap, towels, and clothes and heads to the lake in the woods while everyone else goes to eat. She’s careful and nimble as she strips off her clothes and steps into the cold lake water. Once she’s submerged, she grabs the end of her binding wrap and unravels it from herself. She takes a deep breath, one that fills her completely and lets her usually constricted chest expand. She rubs soap into the cloth, her sweat and a few spots of blood wash out before she leaves it with her clothes and towel. 

Usually, she’s quick with her baths. She scrubs herself clean as fast as possible before dressing and returning to her tent as if she had never been missing at all. Today, she can’t help it. The water is healing. It seeps into her skin and eases the past six weeks out of her muscles. She kicks gently, swimming away from the lake’s edge. Her arms lazily move through the water. 

There’s a shout and Mulan is suddenly alert. She rights herself and presses herself to a rock to hide as she listens to the laughter of the three men who are coming toward the lake. The lake she is in. Naked, exposed. She pales but she doesn’t have enough time to make it back to her stuff before they get here. She’s trapped. 

Po, Ling, and Yao all do a battle cry of sorts as they leap into the water. Mulan tries to disappear, closing her eyes as she fits against the rock. 

“Hey! Ping!” Yao shouts. Her blood runs cold. He’s the one who’s given her black eyes during training, knocked her off her feet, ordered her out of the tent she was assigned. He was the one who started it all, his temper hot and unforgiving. 

She opens her eyes and looks over at the three friends who have written her off. “Oh, hi…” She clears her throat awkwardly. “I didn’t know you were here, so I… I was just washing, but now I’m clean. I’m going to go.” She starts to swim behind the rock, not sure of where she can go. They’re between her and her clothes. The other side of the lake isn’t an option without clothes. 

“Come back here!” Ling says, swimming after her. Fear ripples through her. She thought she’d proven herself multiple times over, but it’s not good enough. “I know we were jerks to you before, so let’s start over.” He holds out his hand and smiles. “Hi. I’m Ling.”   
  
It might be a trick. She looks from the smile that she thinks looks genuine enough to his extended hand. Not turning, afraid of him being able to see what she’s hiding through the water, she takes his hand and shakes. 

“And I’m Chien Po,” the nicest of the three says, appearing on her other side. 

“Hello…” Mulan says, trying to continue to cover herself and figure out how to escape. 

“And I’m Yao,” Yao announces in a loud voice. “King of the rock.” They all turn and look up at Yao who is standing on top of a large rock completely naked. Mulan blanches and looks away. “And there is nothing you girls can do about it.” 

“Oh yeah?” Ling laughs, putting up his hands as Mulan inches away. Po moves out of her way as she makes her way blindly to the shore, keeping her eyes lowered to the water. “I think Ping and I can take you!”  
  
“I really don’t want to take him anywhere,” Mulan says quickly. Ling realizes she’s leaving and dives after her again. 

“We have to fight!” Ling protests, gesturing up to Yao who Mulan certainly can’t look at right now. 

“No. We don’t.” She backs away. 

“It’s not a real fight,” Po tries. Ling nods in agreement, gesturing to his friend as if to tell her to listen to him. 

“Don’t be a girl,” Yao says. If he knew the truth… She laughs awkwardly and tries not to look at the strip of dress she had torn to bind herself. The only part of a dress she had left and it was being used to hide her feminine form rather than accentuate it. 

Ling suddenly lets out a yelp and looks down. Mulan takes the chance to swim out of reach. “What was that?” Everyone is too focused on the fish to notice Mulan grab her towel and pile of clothing before disappearing into the woods. 

“Ping?” Po calls.

“Where did he go?” Yao asks.  
  
“We were joking! Ping?” Ling yells. 

It’s all distant, the lake far enough away that their voices are muted. She knows how to get back to the path that will lead her to camp, but she has to rebind and dress before she can go back. It was stupid of her to try to relax in the water. Her secrets are too obvious and too dangerous. 

Mulan opens her towel and looks down at her chest. The bruises are faded and yellow, the small cuts from the unrelenting ties are reduced to small scabs. Her chest is lined where the wrap has been digging into her skin without rest. She runs her fingers over the bruises and lines, delicately acknowledging how much it all hurts and that she has to do this for her family. 

She starts to wrap herself back up, wincing as she does. Apologies to her body flow through her mind with each aching movement, each sharp pain. There’s a strange sort of relief that comes when she’s finished and gets to pull her shirt back on. The safety of having been able to conceal herself before anyone wandered off the path and discovered her feels like a lonely hug. Her chest returning to its confined state feels oddly good, but she might just be tricking herself into believing it so she can stand to stay like this for the foreseeable future. 

Mulan walks back to the tent and stashes her towel and soaps before walking into the center of camp. The mess tent has been cleared of all food. Men are still there, talking over their empty bowls, but she missed dinner. Her stomach growls as if to punish her further. She sighs and walks away. It doesn’t matter where she had intended to go, her feet lead her up a hill where she and Shang had talked in the grass. Where he’d held her close and kissed her tenderly. She sits at the top of the hill and looks down at the camp in the moonlight. 

Everyone is still talking, laughing, headed to the lake. Her win had given everyone a surge of energy and now she watches them use it to strengthen their friendships and feel a little less like soldiers and a little more like friends. She hums quietly as she pulls her knees to her chest. 

“You didn’t eat.” His voice makes her heart leap and she’s smiling before she’s even turned to see him. When she does, she sees that he’s holding a bowl of food and wearing his nightshirt open. There are signs of a bruise forming on his jaw where she’d kicked him. 

“I did not,” she agrees. He settles in the grass next to her and hands her the bowl. 

“You smell nice,” he says without looking at her. She has never blushed so much as she does now that she’s joined the army and met Li Shang. 

She eats as quickly as she normally does, used to trying to stay out of everyone’s way and stop being the burden she knows she is. Shang’s brow furrows when she puts the empty bowl down but he doesn’t say anything. 

Their fingers lace between them and she relaxes. The anxiety from the lake melts away, draining from her through their linked hands and into the ground. 

Idle thoughts of matchmaking swim through her mind. They probably never even lived close enough for her to be considered for one of his matches even if she had been matchable. She reminds herself that she had not been a viable candidate, the scorn of the matchmaker ringing through her and the town. Had she been matched, she knows she would never feel for him, whoever he might have been, the way she feels now about Shang. How could she? He makes the sun brighter and the water more refreshing. His smile fills her with a kind of joy that she has never felt before. His lips against her skin lights a fire within her that she hadn’t known existed. Even just a simple touch, his hand in hers, her shoulder against his, their feet side by side, their legs brushing, is enough to set her heart racing and her imagination close behind. 

“You did well today,” he says quietly, nudging her shoulder with his. She smiles and leans against him. His arm comes up around her to hug her against his side. He kisses the top of her head and sighs. It’s a content sound. She presses her cheek harder against his chest, feeling the steady drum of his heart. 

“Thank you,” she whispers. It’s weighted with varying degrees of thanks. Thanks for bringing her dinner when she had been too late to grab it herself, for training her well enough that she isn’t the weakest link and has something to be proud of, for holding her hand and kissing her in the moonlight. “You must know that it’s because of you.”  
  
“I only try to help you access what is already there. It’s your determination. Your fight. You.” He holds her tighter for a moment for emphasis and she closes her eyes. 

They’re quiet as they watch the men in camp go to their tents. It could have taken seconds, but it was more likely to have been hours. His arm remains around her, his opposite hand holding hers on his thigh. They don’t talk or move, just stay silently connected as they watch the camp go to sleep. Candles are blown out. Chatter vanishes. The tents are still and the only two that remain are Shang and Mulan. 

“You are falling asleep,” Shang breathes, his fingers playing with the ends of her hair. 

“How would you know? You can’t see my face.” He’s right of course. She’s comfortable and warm from his heat. She feels protected and safe in his arms. 

“Your breathing rhythm,” is all he says. 

“I suppose I should go to bed,” she says, sitting up.

“They are all asleep.” She glances between Shang and the camp. “Let me kiss you. Let me walk with your hand in mine just to the bottom of the hill.” 

She leans in and lets their lips brush. “I would be by your side all day and night if I could,” she says, their lips barely touching. His hand comes up to her jaw as his lips crush hers. He is the strongest man here yet he is weak under her touch. He folds under her kisses. He is as much hers as she is his. 

They walk down the hill together, their hands almost swinging between them as they go. She tries to count the steps, dreading the moment she has to let go, but she loses count when she looks up at Shang. 

“Goodnight, Ping…” He says it reluctantly at the bottom of the hill. She steals a kiss, pressing her lips to his and wrapping her arms around his neck. Her body fits against his perfectly when he pulls her against him. 

“Goodnight Shang,” she breathes as their lips part. She hears the tremor in his exhale as she steps out of his arms. She walks away and lets the burn of his gaze keep her warm. 

When she approaches her tent, she sees that her bedroll is no longer outside of the tent. She spins, searching for the correct tent. Her bedroll is nowhere to be seen. She walks quietly through the tents, getting more lost with each step, her heart racing. Around her are the sounds of snores. None of them are familiar though she’s slept among them for over a month. Her nose burns and her vision blurs, which doesn’t improve her search for her tent, her place to sleep. She leaves the tents, wiping tears from her cheeks and goes to him. 

She stops outside of his tent and takes a step away. They’ve slept in the same tent once by mistake. He’s seen her fatigued, passing out from the exertion. He’s seen her fail repeatedly. He’s never seen her cry. She wipes at her face and takes another step away before bolting back to their hill, a safety net. 

Mulan makes it back to the top of the hill and looks down at the sea of white tents where her bedroll is not. Her crying has stopped, but her anxiety remains. The thoughts from the first night bubble up in her as she clenches and unclenches her jaw rapidly. She doesn’t belong anywhere. She has no home to return to for the shame it would bring upon her family and the threat of being killed for her actions. She has no place in China's Imperial Army. She has no friends to talk to, to eat with, to share a tent with. She counts to ten slowly. She is stronger than she was. She has Shang, another secret that separates her, but one she holds close to her heart for warmth. She can survive this or die trying. 


	6. Chapter 6

Shang had woken only once during the night when it had started raining. The raindrops on the tent were soft and had lulled him right back to sleep. He wakes again and hears the rain continuing with a steady pitter-patter. Training in the rain isn’t always terrible. Without the humid, heavy air that the rain replaces, it can be easier to breathe even if the dirt is now slick mud. Shang readies himself for the day, brushing his teeth, dressing, and typing his hair up, taking his time instead of rushing to breakfast.

He hopes Ping hasn’t forgotten breakfast. He’s never seen someone eat as fast as Ping had last night. He had scarfed it down as if afraid it would disappear in seconds. It  _ had _ disappeared in seconds. The previous night takes over his mind, pulling at the corners of his mouth. 

The Li family is practical. They don’t believe in love. They believe in strength and lineage. Shang thinks he’s in love. He hasn’t said it, but he feels it when he holds Ping. He feels it invade his heart and pump out, filling his veins when their eyes meet. He hears it in his voice, his laugh, his whimpers. Forty-four days since Ping walked into camp and he’s contemplating the word love first thing in the morning. 

Shang steps out of his tent and into the rain, briefly glancing up at the pole that Ping had climbed before continuing his way toward the mess tent. 

“Captain!” Shang stops and turns to where Ling, Yao, and Po are all headed toward him. 

“Gentlemen,” he greets them while wondering what they could want to talk to him about. Generally, no one talks to him before they have to when the training day begins. Some acknowledge him when he takes his food, but no one has approached him. No one but Ping. 

“No one can find Ping,” Ling blurts out. Shang feels his stomach twist. “He didn’t sleep in our tent last night.”  
“Or outside of it,” Po adds, and Yao nods. 

“We looked for him, but no one can find him.” 

“Thank you for bringing this to my attention,” Shang says, his voice steadier than he feels. “Go to breakfast, gentlemen.” He’d last seen Ping walking into the tents in the middle of the night. If he had gone to the tents, why hadn’t he slept? Where had he slept? Where is he? If someone hurt him, Shang will deal with the consequences of the murder of any man here who dared hurt Ping. 

Shang walks into the forest to head toward the lake. He could be bathing. He could be taking shelter under the trees instead of sleeping outside on his bedroll. “Ping!” Shang calls. There is no answer, just the sound of the rain dropping into the lake. “Ping!” He yells again, heart sinking to the bottom of the lake. 

He wants to run, but that would only draw attention to his concealed panic. He steps out of the tents and scans the area. He won’t be in the tents. His horse is still at the stables. Not the mess tent. Definitely not Shang’s tent. His eyes rest on the hill. 

The hill. He tries to force himself to walk, but his pace keeps increasing. Brisk walk to jogging, to full sprinting through the rain to get up the hill. Part of him hopes that Ping isn’t there. He almost slips on the slick grass but catches himself. 

At the top of the hill, Ping is lying in the grass. His face is turned up to the sky, pale and wet with rain. _ Ping. _ Shang runs and slides on his knees. His heart is beating too fast. He pulls Ping into his arms and cradles him against his chest. “Ping.” 

“Shang?” Ping blinks slowly, just waking up. He looks around, confused for a moment before looking up into Shang’s face again. 

“What happened?” Shang asks, wiping the rain from Ping’s face. “Are you hurt? Who hurt you? Are you sick? Are you okay? What happened?” 

“I’m alright, Shang.” He pulls Ping against him, burying his face in Ping’s neck. 

“Why are you out here?” Shang demands, pulling back again to look into Ping’s eyes. His skin is cold from being outside all night. 

“I couldn’t find my tent. My bedroll wasn’t there. I got lost and…” He trails off but doesn’t try to restart. Ping’s hand covers his on his cheek, delicately keeping it there as an anchor. It feels like he was more than missing for a night. Shang’s heart is still pounding as if he’s just found Ping after months of not knowing where he was. They haven’t even known each other for months. Just the one with a sprinkling of extra days. 

“Why didn’t you come to me?” 

“I have never shed a tear in front of you. Not from pain nor sorrow. What would you have done?” 

Shang moves his thumb over Ping’s cheek gently. “I would have wiped your tears.” If there had been any doubt before, there was none now. He loves him. “I would have slept by your side to keep you warm and safe. I would not have done anything other than embrace you and keep you close.” Ping’s eyes soften. “You’re freezing and look like you haven’t slept in days. Go to your tent and stay there.”

“Shang.”  
  
“You are not training today. If your bedroll remains hidden, go to my tent. I don’t care. You are not spending another night in the rain.” Their foreheads rest together as Shang’s heart finally begins to rest. 

“Okay…” Ping takes Shang’s face in his hands and moves so their lips can fit together. He tastes like the rain. They stand up and step away from each other, the morning light offering no coverage for their secrets. Their eyes linger and Shang curls his hand into a fist to keep from reaching out to Ping as they start their descent. The small distance is big enough to be physically felt. 

Again, he watches Ping walk into the field of white tents before he walks in the opposite direction. This time, to the mess tent. Shang grabs two bowls of food and walks to Ping’s tent to make sure he’s there. He is and he’s already curled under his blanket, facing the wall. Shang kneels beside him and puts the food down. Ping sits up slowly and accepts the breakfast in bed.

“They moved it back inside.” Shang nods toward Ping’s bed. He frowns as he chews slowly. “Maybe they’re beginning to warm to you.”

“Why now?” He’s suspicious and guarded but his three tentmates had seemed genuine in their worry only moments ago. Shang sighs and rests his hand gently on Ping’s leg. 

“You  _ are _ likable. You retrieved the arrow and you beat their Captain in a fair match. They respect you.” Ping nods, choosing to accept it rather than fight. 

Ping eats slower today, but he can see him pacing himself to match Shang’s speed. They remain quiet until they both finish eating. Shang takes his bowl and kisses his forehead gently before standing. “I’ll send the doctor to make sure you aren’t sick.” Ping opens his mouth to protest before swallowing it. “Get some rest.” 

Shang leaves the tent and leaves the empty bowls with the staff before going to find the doctor. Ping is probably fine. Color has already returned to his cheeks and Shang is well aware that he’s overreacting. He can’t help it. He can hear his father’s voice telling him to treat all of the soldiers equally, but Ping isn’t just a soldier anymore. 

“Alright, gentlemen. Just because it’s raining doesn’t mean there isn’t work to do,” Shang says as they assemble, waiting for their instructions. 

“Where is Ping?” someone asks.

“Is he missing?”  
  
“Yeah, where’s Ping?”   
  
“Gentlemen!” Shang interrupts the chorus. “Ping is not participating today. The doctor is with him now and we have training to continue. Any questions?” He’s met with the appropriate silence. “Right. We’re running formations.” 

He sounds like his father. He reminds himself that he’s a Captain. He’s been promoted from the General’s son, though he will always hold that title. He had barely had to train like these men. He’d been trained at a palace under the watchful eye of his father and other Generals. He’d grown up knowing these formations and what situations they would be used for better than he knew how to write. 

“Asp!” Shang calls. He had trained among men while being commanded by his father. He’d outranked all of them at just sixteen purely because of his lineage. He could relate on a physical level to what these men are going through, having stood where they stand now, but he had never ranked so low. He doesn’t remember a time when he was weak. 

Shang had been his father’s right-hand man. He’d followed his orders, gone into minor skirmishes, fought off bandits, and proven himself worthy of every promotion he earned. Regretfully, while climbing his ladder and becoming the man his father was committed to helping him become, a civil war had broken out at the palace he’d called home. None of the men here could say what it was like to watch their home become a war zone. Shang can. He remembers the bloodshed, the battle cries, the upset, and betrayal. He’s seen flashes of war even if the last full war had ended when he was only three. 

“Ring!” It’s the first day that his eyes can’t fall on Ping. In theory, he should be able to focus now. He can’t. Not completely. He’s able to correct what needs correcting and call out the formations, but he could call them out in his sleep. His mind is on Ping.   
  
When he saw Ping lying in the grass with the rain coming down on him, Shang’s panic hadn’t belonged just to not knowing where he had been. It isn’t just that he loves him or feared he’d been harmed. Shang had been the one to find his best friend after a battle. The rain had been pouring down on them. Shang hadn’t even seen Xian get hurt. He’d only seen him after, lying in the grass that was painted red. His face had been pale and cold to touch. They’d trained together as boys, brothers by circumstance rather than blood. Their bond had been strong, but it hadn’t protected him from the blade that had run through him. 

“Shield Wall!” he orders to shake the thoughts away. His jaw clenches. He can’t protect Ping forever. He shouldn’t even be protecting him like this now. Sure, he needs his rest, but there had been no battle. No bloodied grass. No wound to heal. They are months away from walking off of this training ground and into a war. 

Shang had thought his training was over, but now he has to learn how to check his emotions. He’s acting as if he’s his wife and telling him to stay home. Stay out of harm's way. Stay sheltered and warm. But he’s a soldier. He’s here to learn to fight and use his training in actual battle. He’s not here to be bedded no matter how badly Shang aches. 

“Carp!” 

Shang can’t sleep. The camp is quiet, the rain finally stopped. It will return, the air still heavy with the promise. He sits up and lights his candle so keep from sitting in the dark. He would pray to his ancestors but he has a feeling that none of them would answer prayers of love. They’d hear his foolish heart and no help would come to him. There is no guidance in matters of love. Maybe he’s lost his way, but he likes the path he’s stumbled onto. 

His tent flap opens and Shang looks from the flickering flame to Ping’s face. His long hair is hanging loose, a stray lock in front of his chest rather than down his back with the rest. He stands still at the entrance and swallows. His eyes look black in this light and Shang can feel them taking in every part of him. He stands to his full height, suddenly very aware of just how tall he is and how small Ping is. He spans no more than six and a bit, tiny compared to Shang’s eight spans. 

“I did nothing but think all day,” Ping finally says. He clenches his jaw and his eyebrows knit together. His chest heaves with almost furious breaths. “Ask me what I thought about.” 

“What did you think about?” Shang asks softly.

“I was supposed to fall in love on my wedding day. I was supposed to be matched, but I could not be. How could I be matched when my match is you? I marched into this, perfectly content to die for my country as long as it brought honor to my family and now I am in love. And you look at me with those eyes and make it impossible for me to want anything other than to stand by your side for the rest of my life. I dare you to try to make me sit out of training again, Li Shang, because I will refuse just so I can be near to you. I am in love.” Ping takes a deep breath and stands a little taller. “I am in love,” he says again as if he wasn’t sure he said it the first time. “With you,” he adds, his voice quieter, smaller. 

Shang’s heart pounds. He can’t move. The air around him can’t be breathed in. Where Ping is fuming, energy pulsing through him where he stands, Shang is still, frozen. 

“Shang?” 

“I would marry you tomorrow if I could,” Shang breathes. And then Ping is in his arms. Ping’s legs are tight around Shang’s waist, his arms around his shoulders, a hand in his hair, and his mouth hot and urgent. Shang holds onto him and kisses back, their lips fitting together perfectly. 

Shang lowers him onto his bed and pins him there, sucking his lower lip before sliding his tongue into Ping’s mouth. Ping pulls Shang’s hips down to his. Shang swallows the groan as Ping’s lips move across his jaw and down his neck. He sucks gently and Shang grinds his hips against Ping, eyes closed and breath coming harshly. 

Ping’s mouth returns to his, capturing him, claiming him. His hand slips under Shang’s nightshirt, fingertips grazing his abs. He doesn’t protest when Ping’s hand catches on the top of his pants. He hesitates, the kissing pausing as they look into each other’s eyes. Half of Ping’s face is illuminated with the flickering candlelight. The other half is cast in shadow. He is breathtaking. 

“Shang…” He belongs to him. Ping lifts his face again and kisses him roughly. Shang bites into his lip gently and pulls. Ping’s fingers against his skin send a shiver down his spine. When Ping’s hand dips into his pants, his hand wrapping around his cock, he lets out a gasp. 

He has never been touched like this by another person. He has never felt someone else's hand stroking him. Shang pulls Ping’s tongue into his mouth to keep from moaning. His fingers circle the sensitive tip before his hand slides down the shaft again. 

Shang’s hand drifts down Ping’s side, but Ping stops him. “Not me. Not yet. Let me.” Their eyes lock and Shang nods, his hand remaining on Ping’s hip as he’s pulled further toward his edge. 

Shang’s breath is coming too quickly to keep kissing Ping. “Ping,” he groans. Ping’s response is to press a kiss to his collarbone. Shang comes in his hand, orgasm rolling through him with a moan he muffles in Ping’s shoulder, burying his face there. Ping pulls his hand free and turns his face to stare. 

“Sorry,” Shang mutters, getting up and pulling his ruined pants off. Ping’s eyes drag over him before he blushes deeply and looks away from both his come-covered hand and Shang. 

Shang grabs his training pants, knowing he’ll have to wash his sleepwear before tomorrow night. For one night, this won’t be an issue. He dips his towel into a basin of water he uses for washing his face or teeth and kneels beside Ping again, wiping his hand delicately. He piles the towel with his pants in the corner of the tent and returns to his bed where Ping is. 

He turns on his side and Shang fits himself against him, Ping’s back against his chest, their legs tangling together. Shang runs a hand from Ping’s shoulder down his arm and laces their fingers together before pulling him in tight and nuzzling his face into Ping’s hair. 

“I love you,” Shang whispers. The words don’t feel like enough but he doesn’t have anything more to give. Ping squeezes his hand before bringing it to his lips and pressing small kisses to each of Shang’s fingers, a love letter in itself. 


	7. Chapter 7

Mulan has not spent a single night in her own tent since the night they declared their love for each other four months ago. Each night, she goes to the tent she was assigned and waits for her three friends to fall asleep, their chatter dying away as their snores arrive. She slips out of the tent when she’s sure they’re asleep and returns to the Captain’s tent, her love’s arms. She melts in his embrace, drowns in his kisses. 

“I need to tell him,” she whispers to herself constantly, but she can’t. She could lose him. She could be killed. He could lose his rank, his head. Their honor would turn to dust and blow away with the wind. So when he touches her, his hand under her shirt and running over her toned stomach, she keeps him from heading North or South, unable to let him go further despite how she burns. 

“Shang?” Mulan ventures as she enters his tent. He’s still dressed and reading a letter by the single flame in his tent. “What’s wrong?” 

“Training is over. Tomorrow we’ll pack up and the following day we’ll move out.” He folds the letter again and sighs, running a hand through his hair. “Your training is complete and in two days, we move to join the General’s ranks at the front lines.”  
  
“That’s what we’ve been working for,” Mulan says, going to him and wrapping her arms around the shoulders that seem to hold the war. She presses a kiss to his temple. “Right?” 

“If I did my job well enough, you’re all ready.” 

“For what it’s worth, I think you’re a great Captain,” she says softly, lips against his ear. 

“For what it’s worth,” he says, pulling her around to his front, “I think you’re a great soldier. That doesn’t make it any less difficult to send you out there to fight.”   
  
“Just as painful as it is for me to watch you lead us out there.” She runs her thumb over his cheek. “Come to bed, love.” He gives her a peck before standing. She curls up on his bed and looks up at him as he strips. She’s become used to seeing his naked form by candlelight in the safety of his tent. She doesn’t look away, no longer embarrassed to be gazing upon him. Now, she lets herself soak it in, her eyes trailing over every curve, every line, every mark of his body. 

He has never seen her body and it pains her. She wants to feel his eyes raking over her body, taking in her feminine form. She wants to feel his hands caress her, all of her. She would be lying if she said she hadn’t imagined his hands easing the pain from her chest, cupping her breasts as his lips graze over her skin. She had spent many mornings waking up from dreams of him inside of her, her legs spread and hugging his hips as he fills her. The worst of it are the dreams where he calls her Mulan. 

Shang pulls on his pants and shirt before blowing out the candle and carefully moving beside her. This is her favorite part. Before he falls asleep, Shang adjusts until they’re practically one person, molded together with tangled limbs. He kisses her wherever he can, her forehead, temple, cheek, neck, lips, nose... and sighs contentedly. When his breathing becomes even, she matches her own breaths to his and follows him into the stars. 

Tonight, that doesn’t happen. He still pulls her to him so her head rests over his rapidly beating heart. He kisses the top of her head and runs his hands idly through her hair. His breathing does not even out and he does not drift. 

“Talk to me,” Shang whispers. He’s troubled by what’s to come. They’ve had this talk in fragments. The one where he wrestles with being proud of the men he molded from false confidence, hollow limbs, and weak wills and being tortured by the idea of watching Ping go to battle, spilling blood or having blood spilled. The conversation of how ready he feels to join this war and finally be done with training his men, how eager he is to see his father, the General, again. Bits and pieces of Captain Li fighting with Shang over a war and a man. 

“About what?” Mulan asks quietly, turning her face to press a kiss to his chest. “You need to rest. We have a big day tomorrow.”  
  
“We have nothing but big days left.” He’s never sounded more conflicted. This is what he has trained for his entire life, but no one actually wants to go to war. “Tell me about your home.”  
  
“What haven’t I told you about yet?” She taps her finger on his chest lightly as she thinks of something safe to tell him and comes up with little. He knows of her father and mother, her grandmother who loves lucky crickets, her dog that does her chores for her when given incentive, and her horse that sleeps in the stables of camp. “You know of my past and I believe you are familiar with my present.”  
  
“So tell me your future.”   
  
“Ah, my future.” She kisses his chest again and sits up a little so she can look at him. In the dark, she can’t make out much but the gleam of his eyes that she can feel on her. “You will know that too. We will win this war and return home. We will find a place to call our own. Somewhere quiet and beautiful with trees and rolling hills. Our bed will be shared. We won’t have to hide anymore. We can kiss in the light of day. We can hold hands when we walk. We can make love whenever we want. I will be,” she swallows her own name before saying, “Li Ping.” _Li Mulan._ “Just to you and I, but that is all that will matter in my future.”  
  
“Ping…” His voice holds the yearning of a man who has never allowed himself to dream.

“My future is the same as yours,” Mulan continues softly. “We will miss sleeping outside and decide to lie in the grass and gaze up at the stars that seem to belong just to us. We will tell stories of how they came to speckle the skies above us. One day, we will have white hair and weathered skin and we will see our story spelled out in every wrinkle, every blemish, every scar. I will be able to run my hand down the side of your face and remember every time I had done it before, leading all the way back to the very first time. Our hands, roughened now from hard work, will soften with time, forgiving us, letting us heal.” 

She lines her hand up with his, the pads of their fingers pressed together. His fingers are longer and his palm is bigger, but it’s not drastic. Shang slides his hand down her’s, his fingers tracing the lines that a fortune teller would read to tell him the future he wants to know. He brings her hand to his mouth and presses his lips to her knuckles. The exhale from his nose lets hot hair ghost over the back of her hand. 

“Will we be happy?” he asks in a way that tells her he knows they will be but he wants her to continue with her dreams. 

“We will be so happy,” she grins in the dark. “There will be nothing to cast shadows of conflict within you or I. We will be free from burdens of war. We will be free to love and we will even have brought honor to our country, our families, each other. The sun will have nothing on how brightly we will shine together.”

“It doesn’t now,” Shang says softly. “Will we have pets?”  
  
“Of course, we will have pets.” Mulan laughs a little. “We will have a dog. I need to have a dog, you know. We will each have a horse. Chickens, but those will be more for eggs and meat than companionship. Like my family’s farm. I won’t let you do the farming. The dog can do it.” This time Shang laughs. It’s such a pure sound and it doesn’t happen often. She wishes she could see his delight, but it’s too dark. So she imagines his eyes closed, a few crinkles beside them. His mouth open, lips pulled into a beaming, open smile as the laugh bubbles out. 

“The dog will do the farming? Is training a dog to do your work for you easier than just doing the task yourself? It seems like a great deal of work and dedication,” he says, a smile still audible in his voice. 

“I’ve done it once,” Mulan says which only makes Shang laugh again. She wishes she could bottle the sound and listen to it to settle uneasy thoughts or bad dreams.   
  
  


His laughter is what she thinks about as she walks. They haven’t stopped walking since they finished packing up their training camp and listened to Shang call out at what must have been four or five in the morning, “Move out!”

Shang is at the front, leading his hundreds of men on a march through the dusty plains that pass mountains. Mulan’s eyes are on his back, staring through the crowd of men that are between her and her love. 

“Hello? Ping?” Ling asks, waving a hand in front of her face. She snaps her eyes away from Shang and over to her friend. “Thought we lost you there.” 

“Just thinking,” she says, giving a flash of a smile. 

Yao goes back to talking about his wrestling prowess as Po nods politely. How these three men ever became friends, Mulan will never know. Po and Ling couldn’t care less about sports, but Yao lets his strength define him. “When I get home, I’ll teach my son how to wrestle so he can beat any of you in combat.”   
  
“He’s barely a year old and you’re planning on making him—”

“Just like his dad,” Yao says proudly, puffing out his chest. Mulan smiles. 

Po is younger than Yao and Ling, but the three of them grew up in the same village. They’d all been friends long before they were conscripted. Ling had been matched around the same time as Yao, but his bride to be had fallen ill before he’d even been able to send the first of the gifts to her family. Ling hadn’t said what happened, but Mulan guessed she hadn’t recovered. Po had yet to be matched, only barely a step into his twenties. 

“No one has anything on Ping’s archery,” Po says. “Not even your wrestling.” Yao grumbles and Mulan rolls her eyes. Ling laughs that high-pitched noise like a hyena. 

“Yeah, you’ve got a future in the army,” Ling says with a nudge. Mulan shakes her head. She barely has a future where she stands. 

The days start to blend together. Camping for the night is still a new practice and it’s practically impossible to slip away to find Shang in the dark with the scattered tents so she curls up in the corner of the tent she shares with her three friends and dreams of her Captain instead. 

They start stealing moments in the day when breaks for water or food were taken. She finds herself pressed between Shang and a tree, biting down moans as his hips press against hers. It’s also in the passing touches that no one notices, his hand on her back when he passes by her, his arm brushing hers when he moves past her or stands too close for a moment. 

After the chaos of trying to figure out camping, Mulan begins to return to Shang’s tent. They talk in whispers so no one can hear them, but by the end of the day, they’re both exhausted and just sleep, curled up together. 

“Where do you go at night?” Po asks as they walk the path set by thousands of others before them. 

“What do you mean?” Mulan hopes her eyes don’t give her away as she looks up at her friend. 

“The past three nights you leave after resting for a short time.” She wonders how much else he notices without saying a thing. 

“I just like to sleep under the stars,” she says. It’s not a complete lie which is why a telltale blush doesn’t flood her cheeks, but still, she glances down and watches her feet. “It reminds me of home. I’m not so very far away if I know they’re sleeping under the same sky.” Po makes a happy noise at the thought and she thanks him silently for being so easily fooled. 

Mulan looks over her shoulder at Yao and Ling who are bickering like brothers, back to Po who seems to be admiring the landscape as they walk, and then to the front where Shang leads. Her sights are set and she walks. 


	8. Chapter 8

Shang sits by his small fire that he’s just finished cooking his dinner over. Small fires dot the plain they found to make camp in for the night. Friends gather around theirs, eating their shared meals and talking, sharing stories and complaining. Nearby, Ping is sitting with his friends. They’re close enough that if Shang wasn’t their Captain with certain feelings for a certain soldier, he might join them. Instead, he leans against a rock and rests his aching feet. 

“I don’t think I’ve walked so much in my life,” Ping says. Shang doesn’t mean to eavesdrop. In fact, he should be doing anything else. Reading the letter from his father, mapping out their paths, not listening in on Ping and his friends. 

“In a thundering herd, we feel a lot like cattle,” Yao adds. 

“Don’t think about that,” Ling says. “Think of a girl worth fighting for.” He sighs wistfully. “I want her paler than the moon with eyes that shine like stars.”   
  
“My wife marvels at my strength. I want her to adore my battle scars.” Shang hadn’t realized Yao was married, but then why shouldn’t he be? He’s certainly of age. 

“I couldn’t care less what she wears or what she looks like,” Po sighs. 

“Yeah, it only matters what she cooks like, right Po?” Ling asks with a laugh. Shang smiles to himself as even Po laughs. 

“As long as she thinks I’m a major find. I don’t want her to be disappointed it’s me on our wedding night.” There are a few comforting pats. 

“I bet they love a man in armor,” Ling adds wistfully. They’re quiet for a moment and Shang finishes his chicken. “Ping?” 

“Huh?” Ping answers. Shang can’t help the smirk that plays on his lips. 

“Bet all the local girls thought you were quite the charmer, huh?” Yao asks. “Had your eye on anyone? Do you have a girl worth fighting for?” Shang should stop listening now. He can already feel his face is hot. His heart pounds. He silently begs Ping not to answer. 

“Oh, I don’t know…” Ping says quietly. Shang lets out a breath. “Maybe a girl who's got a brain… Who always speaks her mind…” 

His heart constricts. He might as well have just been stabbed. He can’t breathe and he can’t get away fast enough. He puts out his fire while he clenches his jaw to keep the hollow scream he feels building in his chest. All of those whispered promises, those visions of the future, the kisses, the declaration of love… None of it meant anything. That was why Ping wouldn’t let Shang touch him. He feels like throwing up everything he’d just eaten. Shang practically throws his dishes down in his tent before storming into the cover of the trees. Not that the trees are close to camp. They’re a small walk away that takes practically no time at all for Shang. Not with his heart breaking in his chest. Not with the tears stinging behind his eyes. 

Shang slams his fist into a trunk and lets himself fall to the ground, burying his face in his arms. His hand is bleeding, the bark’s bite into his skin worse than he thought it would be. It’s not terrible, but it also did nothing to numb the pain in his heart. He feels his bones cracking under the pressure of his heartbreak.

_ “I love you. I am in love. With you.” _

He shouldn’t have let this happen. None of it should have happened. Shang never should have kissed Ping. He shouldn’t have let himself fantasize either. He never should have held him so close. He shouldn’t know what Ping’s hair feels like between his fingers or how soft the skin of his cheek is. He shouldn’t know what Ping’s hand feels like down his pants or what his tongue tastes like in his mouth. He shouldn’t know and now each thing he shouldn’t know and should never have done is freezing and scarring him. Where Ping is fire, regret is ice. 

Shang wipes furiously at his face and gets up. He has nowhere to go. He doesn’t want to go back to his tent, back to his troops. He would love to keep walking and never turn back, disappear into the thin bank of trees that he’s in and find out that it’s not as thin as he thought, finding an entire forest, an entire world away from Ping. 

He hears footsteps and turns around, ready to walk away and pretend he’d only been relieving himself in the privacy of the trees, same as the soldier who was approaching. Instead, he finds Ping. 

“Shang,” he smiles. It’s a stab. The smile and the soft, sweet way that he says his name. He is gutted, his heart and lungs on the floor leaving him empty. He can’t stop the grimace that twists his mouth. “What’s wrong?” He steps forward and his hands find Shang’s. Shang is being stabbed repeatedly, his blood spilling at Ping’s feet. He wrenches his hands away and takes a step back. 

“Captain Li,” Shang corrects him instead of answering. 

“What’s wrong,  _ Captain _ ?” Ping asks again, hurt swimming in his eyes. How does he have the right to feel hurt? He’s the one pining for another, thinking of a woman back home while he vows his love to Shang every night. Shang swallows hard. “Why won’t you kiss me?” 

Why won’t Shang kiss the lips that yearn for another? “You have a girl worth fighting for,” he says coldly. He steps around Ping and walks away. The fires have gone out, the men in their tents, alerting Shang to the fact that he’s been crying for longer than he thought. Ping stayed to talk about his mystery girl back home for longer than he thought. Shang might as well figure out how to tear his heart from his chest because he’s not sure he can take the thoughts of Ping in another’s arms. 

Shang is only in his tent for a moment before Ping is there. He wants to tell Ping to leave, but Ping speaks first and his voice is different, higher.

“I do not,” he says, his fury obvious. Shang stands still, his hands clenched as tight as his jaw. “When I told you I loved you, I meant it.” He pulls at his armor, forcing it loose. “You think I would tell you that no man would compare to you? That I brought shame to my family, unable to be matched, and thought it fate when I met you because no man can measure up?” The armor breastplate falls to the ground at his feet. 

“What—” 

“No!” Ping isn’t yelling loud enough to wake or alert anyone, but it’s enough to get Shang to swallow whatever he had been about to say. What is wrong with this voice? Why is he tearing his clothes off? Why is he crying? Ping doesn’t bother to wipe the tears away. “I told you how I wanted to marry you. I told you I was in love with you. And you think that I spent months in your bed, kissing you, loving you, letting it be known that I belong to you, for nothing? That it meant  _ nothing _ ?” He pulls his hair free violently, not bothering to untie the cloth. His hair falls and he takes a few shaky breaths. “I love you with my entire being. I love you more than I thought possible. Do you understand me?” 

“Ping.”

“My name is Mulan!”  _ Mulan _ pulls off the shirt that has always remained on. For seven months that shirt has stayed on and now it falls with the armor. There’s a bandage tightly wound around his chest.

“You’re hurt!” Shang steps forward, but  _ Mulan _ stops him, pulling at the bandage.

“I did not have a girl back home. I do not have a girl worth fighting for. I will never have a girl.  _ I am that girl.” _ The bandage falls, baring her breasts. “I am the girl who cannot be matched. I am the girl who cannot keep her tongue in a man’s presence.” She yanks the boots from her feet. “I am the girl who stole her father’s conscription notice so he would not have to die in this war.” She steps out of her pants, standing before Shang completely naked. “I am the woman who is in love with her Captain and telling you the truth even if you reject me or have my head for this, for  _ I am no man. _ ” 

Shang lets out a trembling breath. No one knew of a son fathered by Fa Zhou. No one had heard of Fa Ping. Shang is reeling. The man he had finally come to terms with loving is a woman. A woman strong enough to keep up with his army of men. A woman strong enough to climb that pole while holding the weights. A woman strong enough to go to war in her father’s place. A woman strong enough to stand before him, telling him the truth even if it could kill her. 

“You could be killed,” Shang says, his voice breaking. 

“Only if you order it,” she says, lifting her chin. “ _ Sir. _ ” Shang shakes his head. He couldn’t order that. He loves  _ her _ . It doesn’t matter. Man or woman, he fell in love with whoever this person is.  _ Mulan _ . 

“Mulan,” Shang says finally. Her fiery eyes soften. He doesn’t know what else to say. He feels as if he might crumble. “Mulan.” He steps toward her again and this time she lets him. “I’m sorry.” 

“Shang.” It’s the first time she’s said his name with her actual voice rather than Ping’s. Tears are still running down her cheeks. He reaches out and wipes them away with his thumbs, holding her face gently. 

“I love you,” he says, deliberately looking into the eyes that he usually just gets lost in. “I will not let them know. I will not reveal this.” 

“You still love me? Even as I am?” Her voice shakes and he feels it at his core. 

“I will love you always,” he vows. She brings her lips to his and kisses him gently. Either she’s shaking or he is. He can’t tell. The kiss breaks and he looks down at her. There are lines where the bandage has kept her breasts flat against her, hiding her. The bonds were too tight or worn for too long. He thinks of how she’s had to sleep like this, wear this every day. He lowers his hands, one gently reaching out and tenderly touching the lines on her pale skin. 

“I’m okay,” she whispers. 

“You are in danger being here.” Shang is the one shaking. His voice is still quaking and he can see his fingers trembling against her skin. “You are hurting yourself to be here.”

“I can handle it,” she says, her hand coming up to his face. “Can you?” He looks back up to her eyes and nods. There is no other answer. If she can do this then it’s his job to protect her secret so she can survive. It’s his job to stay by her side and let her do this. 

“I can do this,” he promises. “Do you need to..?” He looks down at her clothes. When he looks back up at her, she’s staring at the binding with fresh tears in her eyes. “It can wait.” 

She steps over her confession that’s littering his floor and goes to his bed. She is naked in his bed. He steadies himself and pulls off his own armor, shedding the skin of Captain and baring himself to her for what feels like the first time. It’s a strange feeling. She has seen him naked before, she’s brought him to climax with her hands and her kisses, but it feels new and raw with her secret revealed. 

He lays down beside her and pulls her into his arms. Her lips meet his in a slow kiss, one that lingers and whispers instead of the heated ones that shout and crash. He lies her flat on her back and sits up to press kisses all over her. His lips barely brush her breast, afraid to hurt her. Her hand tightens in his hair and he kisses again with a little more pressure. His lips trail across her skin. Her breaths are the sighs of her coming apart beneath him.

“Shang…” 

He brings his face back to hers, letting her suck his bottom lip into her mouth as she pulls him over so he’s on top of her. He rubs his tip against her slit and feels her warm heat as she whimpers. When he slides into her slowly, she gasps in his groan. He slowly pushes all the way into her and feels her gripping his back as tight as she can. They breathe each other in with ragged breaths as he pulls most of the way out and slides back in, their hips grinding together. 

Her lips find his, fitting together to capture her whimper as he rocks his hips. Her arms are wrapped around him, her fingers digging into his back. He is deep inside of her, making love to her, swallowing her moans. 

“More,” she begs, his lip between her teeth. He picks up the pace, rocking her and breathing harder. She feels amazing. He can feel her fire. He wants to make love to her all night. He wants to ravish her. No world exists outside of this bed with her noises that push him harder and faster. 

“Mulan!” he moans, edging closer. She rolls her hips under him. It’s too much. He thrusts all the way into her and releases, moaning a stuttered noise. Her moan mixes with his before she kisses his chest, keeping herself quiet with his body. He thrusts again and feels more of himself spill into her. 

Mulan lies back and he opens his eyes, looking down into her beautiful face. A thin sheen of sweat shines on her forehead and a pleasured smile steals her lips. Her eyes gleam as she looks up at him. He’s still buried in her, her legs sprawled on either side of him and her hands tracing invisible lines up and down his back. 

“I will never sleep again,” she says softly. He laughs in agreement and lowers his face to hers. She pulls his tongue into her mouth, clearly not finished with him. 

It’s not a matter of waking up the next morning; just untangling themselves from each other so they can dress before the entire camp wakes up. He’s not sure either of them will be able to walk straight after the night they’ve had. She’d had him twice more, their bodies finally bared to each other, their beings folding into one, the truths having been told, they are raw. 

She sits up and drags a hand through her hair to smooth out the mess he’d made of it. He watches her pull it up and tie it with the cloth she’d discarded during her confession. Shang picks up the cloth she’d used to bind herself and kneels in front of her. He doesn’t say a word and neither does she as he helps her wrap her chest back up. When she ties it, she kisses him softly to tell him that she’s okay. She can do this. And he can too. 

He helps her dress just because it’s something he has never had the chance to do before. She smiles as he rests the last piece of armor back on her shoulders. She does the same for him, helping pull his pants up, his shirt on, his armor, his cape. 

“Let me,” she says when he grabs the tie for his hair. He bows before her and revels in the feeling of her fingers combing through his hair as she pulls it up. When she’s finished and they’re both dressed, Shang stands and pulls her into a hug. Her arms wind around him and she sighs contentedly as she fits against him. 

“I belong to you,” Shang whispers. “I have since that first day when you had the entire camp picking up rice. I will until my dying breath.”   
  
“I belong to you,” she answers. “It is written in the stars, in my heart. I will love you until my heart ceases to beat.” 

Shang silently pleads for that day to never come, not while he’s still living. He couldn’t take it if it did. 


	9. Chapter 9

Mulan takes a seat by the fire and warms her hands. It’s a cold night tonight, but it’s manageable. Yao nudges Ling and Mulan raises an eyebrow at the exchange. 

“Are you friends with the Captain?” Ling asks. Mulan feels her heart skip and she hopes none of them can see the quick rush of blood to her cheeks. 

“Why?” 

“We saw you two earlier.” Her stomach drops. What had they seen? Had they seen when Shang took her hand and pulled her what they had thought was out of sight? Had they seen him whisper her name, her real name, in her ear, lips brushing against her skin? Had they seen the kisses they thought were private? Had they seen when her face was pressed to the bark of a tree, her Captain thrusting into her, lips on her neck, fingers in her mouth? Her heart might stop right now. Panic races through her. “I mean, he seems nice and eats with the others sometimes. You might be his only friend though. He talks to you.” 

Talking. He’d seen them talking. She lets out her held breath and relaxes. “We’re friends,” she agrees. A little more than friends. Secret lovers is arguably a better descriptor for them, but she can’t say that. “He’s kind and just as isolated as I once felt… He’s a good man.”

“You’re such a girl sometimes,” Yao says. “Why don’t you marry him?” 

“What!” She laughs awkwardly and swallows it down harshly. Po raises his eyebrows and hands her a bowl of rice with chunks of bean curd. 

“You can ask him if he wants to eat with us,” Ling says, ignoring Yao. She glances over his shoulder at Shang. His plate of food has maybe two bites taken out of it, but he’s staring out over the field of men. 

“Alright.” Mulan sets her food down and gets up, walking toward Shang. He looks up at her before she’s close enough to speak. She loves his eyes. She loves the way she feels when he watches her walk. She smiles softly and his lips pull up on one side. “Hey,” she says when she’s close enough. 

“Hi,” he says. He looks amused. 

“You were listening, weren’t you?” she asks and he nods, his eyes shining with the soft laughter that he keeps contained. She knows the sound though. She can almost hear it from the number of times she’s heard it fall from his lips in his tent late at night. “What’s so funny?” She’s grinning too, his suppressed laughter contagious. 

“You nearly fell over when they asked why you didn’t just marry me.” He stands and she realizes she’s biting her lip. “Didn’t you have a question?”

“Oh, just come with me,” she laughs, rolling her eyes. He grabs his plate and follows her back to the fire her friends have going. Shang sits beside her, far enough for her to want to scoot closer, near enough that their feet are touching on the ground between them. 

Mulan tries not to stare. It should be enough that he’s close to her, but this is new territory. They’re sitting together talking amongst friends together. She feels like it’s obvious that she’s in love with him. They can probably all see if not feel the drum of her heart whenever he speaks. 

“I wish we had wine,” Yao says as he eats. Po nods in agreement. 

“Grape, rice, or mead? What’s your poison, Ping?” Ling asks. 

Mulan has never had wine and wasn’t aware there was a difference. Women aren’t allowed to drink wine and her father didn’t discuss what he was drinking if he had any at all. “Uh… What—?” 

“He likes rice wine,” Shang interjects quickly. “You were telling me earlier, right? Because grape wine is too acidic…” She looks over at Shang and nods.

“Rice wine,” she says as if this means something to her. “I drink rice wine.” 

“My province had some of the best wine,” Shang says, taking the eyes away from Mulan. 

“Where did you grow up?” Po asks.

“Fan Castle in Fancheng,” Shang says and Mulan almost chokes. Everyone else seems to accept this fact as an expected response. She hadn’t known that Shang had lived in a palace. She lived on a farm. Sure, her prospects in the matching pool were higher because of her father’s war decorations and her education, but she never would have been matched so high. Not that they had even lived close enough to be considered. But a  _ palace _ ?  _ Fan Castle _ ? 

“Does it taste alright?” Po asks, probably noticing how she’s stopped eating and all color has drained from her face. Mulan swallows the bite in her mouth and nods, trying not to look at Shang. 

“A _palace_?” Mulan asks when she walks into Shang’s tent. He looks up at her, confused and gorgeous and she needs to focus. “You never told me you grew up in a _palace_.”  
  
“I didn’t think it mattered.” He shrugs. She sits next to him but he smiles and pulls her onto his lap to kiss her. She molds against him, her arms draping over his shoulders, palaces forgotten and seemingly far less important than they have ever been before. 

Shang’s hands slip up under her shirt and gently untie her binding, unraveling her and discarding it on the floor. She takes a deep breath, her head falling back as his lips press to her neck. 

“Marry me,” Shang murmurs against her skin, bowing his face into her chest. She grins and pulls herself up again, kissing the top of his head. 

“I would marry you tomorrow if I could,” she whispers, repeating what he had said to her. He lifts his face to hers again and his kiss lingers. “But we haven’t been matched. We would never be matched. Our parents haven’t agreed. You have failed to present my family with any such letter of proposal. I dare say, you seem wildly underprepared.”   
  
“I will admit that I was caught unaware. I didn’t know I would ever fall in love, let alone with my soldier,” Shang says. “I’ll write them now.”   
  
“No!” Mulan laughs, attempting to keep him from moving. He reaches around her toward his ink and brush. She leans to grab his hand, her fingers lacing with his and bringing his hand away from the empty threat of writing to her parents. “What about you? Should I ask your father for your hand?” 

Shang laughs and shakes his head. “We will probably get to my father’s camp in a day or two. Though you won’t meet him, you’ll see him.”  
  
“He’ll recognize me on our wedding day,” she jokes. There’s no way he would. 

“There is no chance of that,” Shang laughs a little. “Even if he did, by the time he saw your face when I lift the veil, it will be too late.” He plays with her hair for a moment while he thinks. “It’s already too late.” 

“How is it already too late?” 

“I’m too far gone. I won’t take no for an answer from your parents or mine.” 

Mulan untangles herself from his arms and braids a piece of her hair quickly from the middle of her hair, somewhere not noticeable. Shang watches but doesn’t say anything as she ties it off with a small piece from her hair tie. Taking his sword from where it’s safely stashed with his armor, she cuts the braid and looks up at Shang. He’s doing the same, his fingers carefully braiding a lock of hair before he puts his hand out for his sword. She hands it to him and watches him cut it just as she had. 

Mulan takes his hand and wraps the switch of hair around his wrist, pressing a kiss to his hand as she secures it. He gestures for her to step on his knee and she does, his face serious as he ties his around her ankle. 

When she lowers her leg, Shang pulls her tight against him, blowing out his candle over her shoulder before falling back into bed and snuggling against her. It doesn’t take long for them to fall asleep with lazy smiles on their lips. 

The beat of feet marching over the worn dirt path is one that Mulan doesn’t think she will ever forget. It’s pounded into her brain, the sound of hundreds of feet hitting the Earth at once. The sun would be hot, but autumn has taken the humid heat from the air. She hears Yao sigh deeply and envies his freedom of breath, her chest strapped, constricted, tight. 

“Anyone notice anything different about Captain Li?” Ling asks. 

“What about him?” Yao grumbles. 

“He has a new bracelet,” Po offers. Mulan feels her cheeks flush with heat but she says nothing. “I wonder if he’s been matched.”

“Probably got a letter from his bride to be,” Ling muses. _His bride to be_. Mulan can only hear Shang begging her to marry him in the sanctuary of his tent.   
  
“Imagine who his match could be living in a place like Fan Castle.” Yao shakes his head. “Maybe she’s a princess.” 

“I imagine any woman S- Captain Li is matched to would be treated like a princess regardless,” Mulan offers. Ling gives her a strange look and she turns her head to look out over the passing landscape that she hopes never to see again and they’re headed straight for it. 

Instead of the gorgeous mountains they’ve been walking past for weeks, the rolling dusted hills, the smattering of trees… There is fire. Not a raging forest fire, not something dangerous. Not anymore anyway. Small fires have eaten the trees and charred them black. Fires that are smoldering on the remnants of houses and bodies. Even from this distance, Mulan can see the red of the blood over the lifeless lumps that must have been people. 

Shang calls out a formation that she barely registers. She steps in line and they follow their Captain into the destruction of a village. This is her first glimpse of war. It doesn’t look like there’s a battle left to be had, but she’s staring down at the aftermath of a battle she should have been there for, one she wants to have been able to help somehow, one that she knows she wouldn’t have made a difference in. General Li’s army was beyond prepared for war. General Li had led her own father into battle once, but this is what’s left of his army. This is what’s left of him. 

Her eyes find Shang. He looks no different, but she swears she can feel his heart break within her own chest where his beats beside her own. They march until they’re close enough to head the order to find any survivors. 

The ground is a mixture of black and red. The people that Mulan finds are long gone. She kneels beside a small girl, a blood-stained doll just beyond the limp fingers that had been stretched out seeking comfort that she never reached. When Mulan looks up, she finds Shang kneeling beside someone else. He carefully lifts the helmet that she knows belongs to the General. 

“No,” she breathes though no one can hear her. Someone shouts that they’ve found someone, yelling for their healer. She forces her eyes away from Shang to look toward their first, and possibly only, survivor. There’s a great deal of blood and they aren’t moving much. They aren’t going to make it. 

When she looks back to Shang, he is standing, his hands red with the blood of his father. To anyone else, he would have looked composed, strong, but she knows him better than that. She can see through the cracks. He directs his soldiers, calling out orders and taking command in a moment that feels lost, trapping them all in a surreal landscape of peril and sorrow. 

Four pyres are built for a funeral. The first is for the bodies of the enemy, slain by General Li’s Army. Civilian bodies are carried to one, the little girl in Mulan’s arms weighing more than most. The second pyre is for the Chinese Army, the highly trained men who had been trying to protect this village, this country. The final pyre is for the General. There is no formation for the funerals. There is only the solemn silence of respect and detached grief beside Shang’s place closest to his father.

The walk from the destroyed village to the camp of the slaughtered army is the longest. Tents that belong to no one. Bedrolls with no owner. Stashed letters from loved ones, extra clothes, hastily washed dining sets all lay abandoned. 

Mulan doesn’t wait long. She doesn’t even get into her bed. Po already believes that she sleeps under the stars most nights, the nights that he catches her sneaking out. The others had accepted that it’s her quirk and let her have it, not bothering to question her about it. Everyone is weighed down with what happened to their day. Today was supposed to be the day they joined up with the Army, Shang reunited with his father, and plans against their enemy made more solid. 

Mulan walks to Shang’s tent as quickly as she can without being noticed. He’s sitting on the edge of his bed, his jaw clenched tight. He hasn’t changed out of his armor, his hands are dark with dried blood, and aside from his jaw, he looks as calm as ever. 

“Shang..?” He looks up at her as she kneels in front of him and grabs the bowl of water, taking his hands gently. He lets her and watches the water turn ugly, disrupted by death. His hands shake, the water dripping back into the bowl with the tremors. 

“I have a headache,” he says quietly through clenched teeth. Mulan raises a hand to his cheek to ease the tension in his jaw with her soft touch but his skin is heated. 

“You have a fever.” He nods vacantly, his eyes still on the pink water. When she moves to start taking his armor off, he doesn’t resist. He doesn’t help either. She pulls off each layer until the only thing he’s left wearing is his pants. 

“Stay here. I need to get more water.” It’s not like he would go anywhere. He’s pale, his cheeks flushed, with his arms around his middle wincing in pain. She wishes he wouldn’t hold in the grief that is eating away at him. 

When she comes back with the bowl cleaned and filled with fresh water, Shang has moved. He’s outside of his tent vomiting into the dirt. She leaves him to it and ducks into his tent. Soon, he walks back in and lies down on his bed. 

“I know,” she says when he whimpers against the cool cloth she presses to his forehead. When they’re both sure he’s not going to need to get up to purge anymore, she moves so he’s lying between her legs as she sits up to keep cooling him with the damp cloth and soothe him with her fingers raking through his hair. 

“Thank you,” he whispers when he’s almost asleep. His voice is already half dipped in dreams. She keeps it up until the fever breaks deep in the night. He’s fast asleep but he still manages to pull her against him when she moves to go to sleep beside him. 

He’s in agony, but he will be okay. The grief of losing a loved one, an honored parent, has every right to hurt him as deeply as it so obviously is. She can only be glad that he has someone to look after him while he looks after his army. She kisses the tip of his nose, vowing silently as she closes her eyes in the dark that she will always be there for him, especially now, especially in his grief. 

“I love you,” she whispers as she slips into slumber. 


	10. Chapter 10

_ “My unit was to join with General Li’s as their support, but when we arrived a week’s past, their ranks were depleted. The village they were based at as well as General Li and his men were killed. There was one survivor but he failed to make it through the night. Some of the enemy were found dead there as well. “ _

Shang’s unit seamlessly became the support unit for General Chen’s Army almost immediately. It seemed to happen while Shang had been commanding in a daze, his grief powerful. He is stuffing three years of mourning period into the shortest amount of time possible because, while his father had earned well more than a few weeks of grief, Shang does not have the luxury of time. Done right, he would wear black with his family and mourn for a year and three months to show the respect his father had earned. All he can offer are his prayers to his ancestors with Mulan by his side with her unwavering support. 

Shang leaves the war tent where he had been going over tactical maneuvers with the General for what felt like days. He rubs his eyes, wiping his hand down his face before he sets out to find Mulan and maybe go for a walk to clear his aching head. He finds her with her friends. Their faces are serious and it makes Shang stop. He watches from his distance but he’s still close enough to hear what they’re saying. 

“When saying Ling, Yao, Po, and Ping, although the surnames are different yet, we have come together as brothers. From this day forward, we shall join forces for a common purpose: to protect one another in battle, see this war through at each other’s sides and win for China. We seek not to be born on the same day, in the same month, and in the same year. We merely hope to die on the same day, in the same month, and in the same year. May the Gods of Heaven and Earth attest to what is in our hearts. If we should ever do anything to betray our friendship, may Heaven and the people of Earth both strike us dead.”

They’re becoming brothers. She has come far from her first day, a shaking hand gripping her father’s conscription notice. She has come far from being the most hated man in camp. She has a band of brothers. She’s earned their respect and unity. Pride and adoration for Mulan is what mends him and keeps him standing. 

He takes a slow and deep breath of the calming, chilled air and takes a seat on the hill. He lies back and closes his eyes against the sunlight. He can picture home, the pagoda roofs and wooden paths. Memories of his father returning from his station fill Shang’s mind. Though it will never happen again, he can inhale the memories and be thankful as he exhales his hurt, his wound. No, his father will not return from this war, but he lived a good life of returning from many others to his family in Jing Province. Shang will take his place and return in his stead when he’s won this war. 

Shang opens his eyes and turns his head when he feels someone sit beside him. He already knows that it’s Mulan before he looks. She is staring out at the horizon, her face serene and still set in a determined way. Shang closes his eyes again, comfortable and protected. He lifts his hand from his stomach and rests it over hers in between them. They don’t speak and he returns to his slow meditative breathing to release his anguish. 

“Ping!” Shang calls the next day. Mulan turns immediately as if the name she’d given herself was her true one. “We’re going hunting. Grab your bow.” Shang doesn’t miss the smile that crosses her lips before she nods and goes to her tent where her bow is stashed. She follows him to the makeshift stable and nuzzles her horse, whispering gently to it before stepping up and mounting. 

“Where are we going?” 

“Just out for a hunt,” Shang says without looking at her as they leave camp. Hopefully, it will take all day. “We need the meat.”  
  
“And you want to escape,” she says quietly. 

He nods once, still unsure why and how she can read him so well. He looks over his shoulder to make sure they’re far enough away before he says, “Come on,” and motions for her to ride beside him rather than slightly behind. 

“Why me?” she asks even though she knows perfectly well why her. Shang side-eyes her and sees her sitting tall with a gorgeous smirk on her lips. He huffs a small laugh. 

“Because you’re good with a bow,” he answers when he looks away. “And you’re cute.” 

“You’ve never said that before.” He thinks it all the time. She’s beautiful and mystifying. Masculine or feminine, he doesn’t care. She is captivating. “You’re handsome,” she counters after a long pause. His cheeks burn and he looks over at her. She’s grinning now. 

“What?”  
  
“You’re blushing.”  
  
“I am not.” He turns away as she laughs and begs his face to regain composure. 

“You’re also good with a bow, I guess.” She shrugs indifferently. “Not better than me, though. I agree. You needed me on this hunt or you would have failed to bring back anything on your own.”   
  
“Oh, I see. I teach you how to aim and this is how you repay me?” He’s laughing now and so is she as she nods emphatically. “You’re on.” 

He finds a good spot and they dismount, leaving the horses to graze as they take their bows and nod. The competition has begun. He considers letting her win as they walk near each other until she whips her arrow and shoots before he has time to react to seeing the same bird she just shot. 

“One,” she says quietly over before she walking ver to collect her kill. 

“We were looking for deer.” 

“Still are, but what a nice snack.” She lifts the bird up and walks back to him triumphantly. When she makes it back to him, she stands toe to toe with him and lifts her chin. He cups her jaw and lowers his face to hers, pressing a kiss to her perfect lips. She kisses back, her arm that isn’t carrying the dead bird wrapping around his shoulder and pulling him closer. His hand falls from her face to her waist as her tongue teases his lip. Something drops to the ground, presumably the bird, and Mulan’s other hand comes up, her fingers at the nape of his neck. To lift her, he would need to probably drop his bow. He can feel hers against his back. They’re here to hunt but that’s hard to remember with her tongue in his mouth. 

“We really do need to hunt,” he mutters, breaking the kiss and resting his forehead against hers.   
  
“Right.” Neither of them move as their breath mingles between them. She lowers herself from her tiptoes and steps out of his embrace, her arms falling away and taking the air with her. 

They walk in silence for a short time, both looking for their dinner. She’s quieter than anyone he’s ever hunted with before. He knows why, but it’s a stab in the gut to think of someone telling her not to speak her wonderful mind. She’s been silenced her whole life, much like his sisters, his mother, every woman. There’s something to hate about it; the way things are. 

The deer is one they spot at the same time. Shang raises his bow slowly and stops moving immediately so as not to scare it away. He hates the moment before he shoots. It’s peaceful, grazing just as his horse is. It doesn’t know the danger it’s in with two arrows pointed directly at it. The fur is soft and shines in the sunlight. The ear twitches but it keeps eating. Shang releases the arrow a fraction of a second after Mulan. They both hit, but hers is the better shot by far. 

The deer falls, but he doesn’t watch, his eyes drawn to his huntress who holds up two fingers before smiling. He’s never wanted to kiss her more. When they’re alone, she’s free. She uses her real voice, often clearing her throat first. She laughs and jokes, her grinning unbearable as it shines with more radiance than the sun ever could. She shows off in a way she can’t with the other men around. 

Shang spots the second deer over her shoulder and motions her to duck. She looks as she drops and he takes the shot. “One,” he says when his arrow sinks in. He sighs. It didn’t take long. They haven’t been at this camp long enough for the animals to run and hide. Usually, this would be a good thing, but he wants to stay here. He wants to stay out here for as long as he can.

“No one knows it only took an hour,” Mulan says as they walk toward the first fallen deer. “And they don’t have to.” 

“What do you suggest?” 

Mulan takes their two arrows from the deer and looks up at him with a glint in her deep brown eyes. “We could stay out here. Just for another hour or two. Or all day.” 

Shang watches as Mulan lifts the deer over her shoulders. She walks away from him back toward where her dead bird is. Shang watches for a moment, his eyes following the sway of her hips that she’s accentuating right now just for him. He shakes his head and goes to his own deer, lifting it with ease before following her path back to their horses. 

Their kills dropped off, waiting to be delivered, Mulan’s fingers lace with his and he lets her lead him away from their horses again. He’s never seen other couples do this. His parents certainly never held hands while they walked. Then again, his parents never went hunting together or entered a war together. They certainly hadn’t hidden that his mother was a woman and trained her as hard as all of the men in the training grounds. And holding her hand gives him peace. They don’t follow the rules that society has laid out for them. They hold hands and proclaim their undying love and faithfulness to each other, promising marriage without a matchmaker and without parental input. Handholding is far from the worst rule they seem to break on a daily basis. 

“I bet you can’t hit that tree,” Mulan says, interrupting his thoughts. 

“If I hit it?” he asks. How could he not? It’s a tree. 

“If you hit the tree then… I’ll mount you right here and now.” She bites her lip as she smiles. “If you miss, you can pin me to the tree instead and take me.” 

“Seems like a bet I’m willing to take,” Shang says, drawing his arrow without hesitation. She laughs and he draws back the string. He shoots and she raises her bow in a flash, releasing an arrow that soars after his, knocking it before it can make it to the tree. An incredibly hard move to make. An incredibly attractive move to make.

Shang drops his bow and scoops Mulan into his arms, lips colliding, suddenly starving. Her bow drops as she throws her arms around him and jumps up, her legs wrapping around his hips. His hands move to her thighs effortlessly as her fingers bury themselves in his hair. He does as the bet decided for him and pins her against the nearest tree, biting into her lip. She pulls back, her lip still caught between his teeth before he lets go and lowers his mouth to her neck. A sweet sigh escapes her lips. 

Every noise, every movement makes him harder. Shang lowers her, legs unwinding from his waist and being replaced by her hands pulling at his pants. He grabs her hands and holds them against the tree, mouth finding hers as he grinds his hips against hers. She whimpers.

His hands travel down her arms and quickly down her sides until he reaches her hips. Her hands have the same idea, pulling his pants down, a finger sliding up his shaft. He pulls her pants down and she turns around, her hands braced against the tree and his dick pressed to her bare ass. He rubs the head of his dick between her wet lips.

“Shang, please,” she begs, looking over her shoulder at him. 

He pushes in and lets out a soft moan at her wet heat around him. He slides all the way in, grip tight on her hips as he doesn’t bother with the slow lovemaking they usually go for in the privacy of his tent deep in the night. His rhythm is immediately fast, his thrusts hard. 

“Yes!” she calls out, her back arching more. It only drives him deeper. 

Her panting increases with his, the sound his hips slapping against her ass only making her louder. He groans and wills himself not to come. Not yet when she feels so good and those noises that she usually muffles with his fingers, his neck, his mouth are filling the air he’s breathing. 

Mulan straightens herself so her back is pressed to his chest. One of his arms automatically wraps around her, keeping her pressed against him as she looks over her shoulder, finding his lips. He feels her tongue against his lip and lets his tongue meet hers in between. 

She reaches up, her hand on his jaw as she deepens the kiss, sucking him into her mouth as she moans. He thrusts deep into her and she gyrates against him, edging him closer. The kiss breaks, both breathing too hard to keep the kiss, but they don’t move their faces, breathing in each other and letting their trembling lips barely touch. 

His hips pump harder and slower, relishing in the feeling and knowing he’s close. She pants and gives small, “Oh!”’s, her fingers curling. One more thrust that makes his breath shutter as he fills her. 

“Mulan,” he moans, sliding most of the way out before slamming home again and feeling more of himself spill into her. 

“Shang,” she answers in a breathy whimper. 

They untangle themselves, pulling up their pants and watching each other. Her cheeks are pink and her chest is still trying to return to the normal breathing rhythm. Dressed again, she folds herself back into his arms and kisses him. 

He never imagined this kind of a life for himself. Sure, the Captain thing had been expected, but the falling in love? That was never in the cards. Or at least, he’d thought they weren’t. He’d never dared to dream of love like this. He hadn’t known to dream of craving the taste of her lips even after making love to her. He always wants her, his soul begging to be entwined with hers forever. It’s how he ends up lying down miles from camp with a woman disguised as a man, lying in his arms and whispering sweet nothings to each other instead of returning to their posts. 

“I love you,” he says seriously.

“Love,” she sighs happily. Her smile and the elated giggle that follows fill his heart. Love. He sighs happily. 


	11. Chapter 11

The skirmish had started suddenly, an abrupt outburst of shouting as two sides collided. Mulan stands behind the swords and shouts, aiming over the heads of her fellow soldiers and planting her arrows in the enemy. She tries not to think about the fact that these are the first people she’s killed. She’s protecting her people, her country, her friends, her lover. She clenches her jaw and keeps herself going because it’s all she can do as the men shout with the clashing of metal. 

General Chen’s archer unit had started to help train her in their downtime. There was no such thing as downtime anymore. She was either hunting with Shang, practicing archery with the General’s archers, following the orders of the General and her Captain to carry out any task that needed to be done, and carrying out an intense and forbidden romance. Her life used to be learning to pour tea. Now she’s just fired an arrow into a man’s neck and not even blinked. 

“You did well today,” Shang says as he helps unwrap her binding. “Are you okay?” She nods. She didn’t think she would be. She hadn’t even thought she’d live past her first week in the Chinese Army but here she is. She had known that this would happen eventually. 

“I suppose I’m less okay that I’m okay,” she says quietly. The binding falls and she leans back against Shang, his arms folding around her protectively. “Is this how you felt the first time?”

“I felt scared the first time.” He presses a gentle kiss to her jaw. “Scared that I’d been able to do it, I guess, but my father was proud. He’d made a big deal about how I’d helped to protect China’s people and that helped. I brought him honor and earned the respect of him and the Army, the envy of my friends… That won out over the fear.” 

“Do you miss your friends?” she asks, turning her face so she can see him. 

“Don’t you miss yours?” 

“What?” She shifts in his arms and furrows her brow. “What friends?” 

“Whoever you spent your time with? Who did you take tea with?” He seems honestly confused. 

“My mother and my grandmother. Sometimes my father, but those were rare occasions.” 

“When you tired of your family, I mean. Who did you talk to?” 

“When I tired of my family, I talked to my ancestors or my horse. I gave up trying to talk to Little Brother. He never listens.” She shakes her head a little even as she smiles at the fond memories of that energetic dog chasing his own tail. “I think you forget that I am not actually Ping. Women do not have friends until they are married. I did not have friends until Ling, Po, and Yao forgave me and accepted me into their group.” 

“Oh,” he says softly. He looks like this news was delivered with a great deal of weight. He pulls her back against him again, hugging her and resting his chin on her shoulder affectionately. 

If she had been matched and married, she would have been friends with the wives of her husband’s friends and brothers. Instead of her band of brothers at war, she would have a small group of women to talk to, gossip with, and raise children alongside. They could have laughed about the matchmaker maybe. Surely, there would be no archery or hunting. 

Shang blows out his candle and they lie down together, but her mind is far from restful. She turns in his arms, trying to get comfortable but not finding it. She eventually sits up in the dark and opts for running her fingers through his hair instead. 

After the war, when she and Shang strongarm their families into allowing their union, will the men she forged friendships with remain her friends? Will she be pushed out and made to sip tea with ladies who would pale to learn of the things she’s done? Their lips would be painted red as hers had been at her failure of a matchmaking ceremony, but today the red she’d seen on men’s lips was not paint. The women in this hypothetical future would wear dresses, but Mulan is so used to her pants now she’s unsure if she could go back to wearing her layered dresses. She doesn’t want to go back to keeping her voice down and her ideas in check. She feels energetic with a bow in her hands. She feels powerful with the weight of her hunt on her shoulders as she carries it back into camp. She feels as much of a woman as she ever did, she just doesn’t wear the makeup or the clothes to display it while she kills men that threaten her people and country. 

Mulan gets back from some light archery training and sits by Yao by the fire where he’s drinking boiled water. There are no tea leaves, but the man can pretend. “Have some,” Yao says, handing her a cup. She inhales the steam, summoning a flavor that isn’t there before taking a sip. 

“Thank you.” 

Yao is cooking which is something Yao should never be doing. Usually, Po or Mulan takes care of the cooking for their small group because Yao burns and overseasons almost everything and Ling’s mind wanders with his mouth, forgetting the food completely until it’s too late. 

“Where’s Po?” Mulan asks, unwilling to ask instead why on Earth Yao is cooking right now.

“The tent,” Yao grunts as if he couldn’t be less interested in this topic. He’s probably just hungry and tired. 

“I’ll go get him for dinner. Do you know where Ling is?” 

Yao looks up at her and raises an eyebrow. “The tent,” he says again. “I wouldn’t.” 

“You wouldn’t?” she asks as she stands, grabbing her bow again to bring back with her. “Are you two fighting?” He shakes his head and waves his hand dismissively at her, probably deciding it’s not worth it to try to talk her out of it. 

Mulan walks back toward their tent which isn’t too far away, but it’s far enough from the dinner fires that are sprouting in the center of camp that she could slip between the canvas and find her way to Shang’s tent without anyone noticing even when they’re all awake and eating dinner. 

She hears panting and a long groan from one of the tents and tries not to blush and jump to conclusions. Those noises could be anything. Couldn’t they? Shaking her head, she opens the flap to her tent and freezes. 

Po and Ling are there. There’s no doubt about that. They are definitely there, in the tent, like Yao had said. They are also naked. More naked than the night they’d come to swim in the lake if such a thing were possible. 

They also haven’t noticed her as their eyes are closed, lips locked together, and Po is buried deep inside of Ling. 

Mulan backs out and keeps stepping backwards a few steps, her eyes stuck open wide in shock. Her mind is a mess of too many thoughts coming together at once and crashing into one another as she tries to think them. 

They… He… With him… She saw… But they… What? 

She turns and walks to Shang’s tent, another moan from Ling making her steps quicken to a run. She drops her bow and arrows to the floor when she gets to Shang’s tent and paces, trying to digest what she’s just seen. He’s not here, probably eating his dinner with men who do not have their tongues down each other’s throats and their… She clears her throat and keeps pacing, her face hot. 

“Oh,” Shang stops when he walks in. “What’s going on? Are you alright?” 

“I just…” She points vaguely back toward her tent. “I saw it all. I saw way too much, but I saw it and why would they do that? What about their future matches? Are they still going to get married after the war? Or are they like us now? But they’re both men? Do men do that?” 

“Do men do what?” Shang asks as he stows his sword. 

“They were… together.” She finally stops walking. Shang looks as if he’s still waiting for the reason she’s freaking out. “Po and Ling!” she tries. Shang nods slowly. “Having sex.” 

“And?” She opens her mouth to answer but no words form.  _ And _ ? “All men do it. It’s either that or the whores.” 

“ _ Excuse me _ ?” He stops moving and looks at her like he’s only suddenly realized that he’s maybe made a mistake. “What do you mean  _ all men do it _ ?” she flares. She stifles the thought of Shang’s lips pressed to another’s. “I thought I was special! Some love of your life if you’ve shared yourself with whores!”

“Not me!” he says quickly. 

“If it wasn’t me, it would have been another soldier?” If she hadn’t grabbed that conscription notice and showed up, which of the soldiers she fights alongside would be in his tent tonight? 

“Definitely not! No! That would break so many rules. I mean, we already are breaking basically every rule, but no. I fell in love with  _ you. _ ” 

“If we were married and I was at home in your fancy castle waiting for you to return, would you pick whore or soldier?” Her heart is filled with flames. Not the same kind of heat as before. Raw anger pumps from her heart out into every limb. 

“I wouldn’t.” He says. 

“So  _ all men _ except the suddenly flawless Captain Li Shang sleep with men and whores when they’re far from home? Is that it?” 

“ _ Most _ men just need some comfort or release and find it with each other or pay for it from a woman. That’s all I’m saying. I don’t. You were my first and only and I wouldn’t. Why are you upset?”

Why is she upset? Ling had almost been married to a woman. He’d been matched once upon a time. Neither were married now, but… She’s not actually that mad about them. More surprised that she’d had to see it at all. If the thought about it, they make a cute couple if that's what they are. But now she hears, from the lips of her love, that men do this. They lay with each other or with whores in the absence of their wives. Are no men virgins before their wedding night? If she had married Shang, would he have been experienced with the memories of a paid woman’s teachings? Would he have lain with another man before her? And after they were married? Would he have gone off to war and made love to other men? Other women? 

“Because all men do this,” she says, her voice coming out chillingly calm. 

“ _ Most _ ,” Shang tries.

“I guess I was wrong! I was taught that the bond between a husband and wife is special. I made my vow to you. I gave myself to you. And still, all men do this? Sorry,  _ most _ ! You can return home after the war and marry the lucky woman who matches with you and your mother approves of and she’ll never even know that you made love to me while we were here. She will never know that even if there wasn’t a woman in your unit, you would have found somebody because all men do it, right? And if not a soldier because it breaks  _ so many rules _ then surely you could have walked down aways and found someone willing to take a coin.” 

There are shouts outside but she ignores them.

“I will not marry another and I would not have been with anyone else! How did this turn around on me? I thought this was about Po and Ling!” Shang runs a hand over his face. “What we have _is_ special. I didn’t want any of this to happen, okay?”  
  
“Oh.” That feels like a stab through the heart. 

“I didn’t mean it like that.” 

She takes a step back, her eyes dropping to the floor. 

“Mulan.” 

She can swallow everything she had been taught about marriage and sex. Women were taught that sex was a special bond between a husband and wife. It brought forth their children and built their families. Men didn’t see it the same way. Maybe Shang did, but this  _ most _ category did not. She could handle that. She could wrap her head around it even if it would take longer than a surprised moment. She can’t handle what he’d just said. 

_ I didn’t want any of this _ .

He doesn’t want any of this. Any of her. 

The wind outside is rising with her heart rate. 

“Mulan, I—”

She shoves the flap to his tent aside and runs outside. Everyone is running to the tents as fast as they can, the wind picking up the dust. She runs through it wondering how far she can get before she starts crying. Maybe she can make it all the way home where she can be disgraced further. 

She coughs as dirt and dust suffocate her. Someone shouts but she staggers in the heavy wind that might very well be strong enough to take her off her feet. Another gust shoves more dust into her mouth and she doubles over coughing. 

Shang picks her up and covers her face with his cape that he’d been in the process of taking off when she’d started yelling. He doesn’t look at her, his face set as she brings her back to his tent. 

“Put me down!” she yells as soon as they’re inside. He does but stands between her and the flap. 

“You’re not going out in a dust storm to die,” he says flatly. “Can you listen to me?” 

She clenches her jaw and glares at him. What could he have to say? Her image of men was romanticized and they all make love to each other and only get married because they have to? That he never wanted to fall in love with her, but she tricked him by being a man first? That whores are a part of life that she has to get used to because she’s not a child anymore? 

“I don’t understand why you’re mad. I don’t think I ever could, but I can’t take that anger away from you,” he says as if she’s a cannon that’s fuse is lit. “I love you more than anything and you should know that. I’ve made my vows to you and I promise you that when this war is over I will marry you and remain faithful.”

“You don’t want me.”

“I didn’t want to fall in love with a soldier. It was never really an option.” He sighs and she feels her shoulders release some tension with his exhale as if he holds that power. “I fell in love with you and I want to be in love with you now that I have it.” He holds up his hand to show where her hair circles his wrist. 

“Shang…” She wants to hug him but she’s been yelling at him and accusing him of so many things. He lowers his arm and she takes a step toward him. “I’m sorry.” 

“Me too.” He has nothing to be sorry for. He can’t apologize for the hypotheticals she made up and he certainly can’t apologize for Ling and Po. She shakes her head and steps into his arms, pressing her face into his chest.   
  
“I love you too,” she whispers, unsure if he can hear it over the howling wind. Hopefully, he feels it. His arms are tight around her even when she coughs again. “I just didn’t know. I didn’t know men could…”

“It doesn’t make them love their wives any less if that’s any consolation,” he says quietly. “And Po and Ling remain unmarried, so are you still mad?”

“No,” she mumbles. “And you won’t do that to me?” she asks, suddenly looking up. He stares down into her face, his eyes serious. 

“I will never do that to you,” he promises. 


	12. Chapter 12

The fight has dissipated from the air with her apology and embrace. Her enraged roar is replaced by the wind outside as she sits on his bed, pulling at her binding as she coughs up the dust she inhaled. He kneels beside her and helps, making quick work of the fabric and letting her shirt fall back into place. 

“Better?” he asks. She takes a few deep breaths and nods. 

He wonders what it feels like. He’ll never know, but each time she unravels it, she drags in a breath that fills her lungs and expands her chest like she’s never actually inhaled before. He wishes she didn’t have to do this to herself, but not to do it is much more dangerous. 

“What’s that?” she asks, nodding toward a letter he’d received that morning. 

“A letter from my mother that I wanted to show you.” He sighs. Now is possibly the worst timing for this. The letter had hurt to read. His mother hadn’t canceled the matchmaking after he’d left. A girl had been picked and the matchmaker had agreed to figure out a wedding date for them after the war if his family accepted the match. 

“You’ve been matched,” she says as she reads it. She looks up at him, the paper trembling in her hands. 

“I’ve already replied that I don’t accept the match and that I won’t accept any match.” He takes the page from her again and lights the candle to burn it. 

“Do you know who she is?” Mulan asks. Shang holds the page over the flame and shakes his head.

“She won’t be mine,” is all he says. “I already belong to you.” He drops the last bit of the letter, still burning, to the floor. 

Mulan’s hands pull his face to hers and he’s surprised that her urgency doesn’t break both of their noses. She bites his lip and her fingers bury themselves in his hair, pulling it all free from the tie. Next to go is his shirt. She pulls it open and shoves it off of his shoulders without breaking the kiss, her tongue exploring the inside of his mouth. 

Usually, this is where he would gently lie her down, open her shirt and start moving his kisses lower. Tonight, Mulan guides him down somewhere between roughly and lovingly. She straddles him and pulls her hair free, letting it fall down her shoulders before she lowers herself so she can kiss him again. 

Her lips brush over his jaw and down his neck before she bites his chest gently and sucks hard enough to mark him. Shang pulls at her shirt, getting rid of another barrier. It joins his on the floor as she licks up his neck and finds her way back to his mouth. 

He runs his hands down her body, stopping when he reaches her ass. She rolls her hips against him and he groans. She yanks their pants off and tosses them aside before straddling him again, his dick sliding between her lips as she teases him. 

Mulan grabs Shang’s hands and guides them to her chest. He runs his fingers gently over her raised nipples and lets her guide his hands slowly down. Her skin is soft under his rough hands. When they reach her hips, she slides him into her. He sucks in a harsh breath with her and grips her hips tight. 

This is the first time she’s ever been on top of him, claiming him like this. She rides him, grinding and bouncing, leaning over so she can continue to devour him. She finds his hands and pins them to the bed, their fingers twined tight. He is powerless under her rocking hips and delicious tongue. 

She moans, her head falling into the dip of Shang’s shoulder as her back arches. Her bouncing stutters and he picks up from beneath her, thrusting hard into her as she shivers. He can feel her breath, hot and fast on his neck. 

One of her hands releases his and caresses the side of his face as she lifts herself back up. She’s panting with sweat beaded at her hairline. She slams her hips down against his, ceasing his pumping and driving him deep into her. He gasps and she slides her finger into his mouth as she grinds. He licks up her finger and sucks around a moan. 

He feels like he’s about to burst and another orgasm is rolling through her, her mouth opening with a groaned, “Oh, Yes!” He starts thrusting again, moving his hands to her hips and feeling her hand trail from his mouth to his chest to steady herself. “Shang!”

Her noises and rolling hips send him over the edge and he feels himself fill her. She keeps grinding, pulling more from him as her name drips from his moans. When both of them have finished, their chests both heaving, a wobbly, satisfied smile crosses her lips.   
Shang sits up, her legs still around him keeping him planted inside of her, and brushes her hair away from her face before kissing her. This time it’s soft and gentle, the possessive urgency spent, leaving them with lingering kisses. 

Her arms fall over his shoulders, hands in his hair again as she holds him against her. He can feel both of their hearts beating, trying to escape their chests to finally meet between them. 

When she finally gets off of him, they lie down on his bed and pull the blanket around them as she curls against his side. Something tells him there won’t be much sleeping tonight. They’re stuck in his tent until this dust storm is over. He’s never been happier to be stuck in one place with one person. 

They’re quiet for some time and he suspects that Mulan is listening to his heartbeat slow and his breathing even out. He’s listening to the wind roar outside while the sanctuary of his tent remains calm and quiet. He lets his fingers wander over her skin, tracing invisible patterns and nonsense words of love on her shoulders and back. 

Mulan props herself up on one elbow and looks down into his face, her cheeks flushed and eyes shining. “What are you thinking?” She says it so quietly, almost like she hadn’t meant to speak it at all as she runs her fingers through his hair. 

“In every way that matters to me right now, you are my wife,” he answers honestly. She smiles a little. “Ceremonies later will make it official, but I don’t need any of it. I don’t need the matchmakers to set a date for us or gifts or payments or…” He shakes his head to banish the little things that hold no importance to him. “My wife.”

“My husband,” she answers, her lips brushing against his. “Fa Ping by day,” she says with a cheeky smile before pulling her hair back from her face and setting her face as Ping does. 

“Li Mulan by night,” Shang says and her hair falls again, her jaw relaxing and her eyes softening. He runs his fingers gently down her cheek and she leans into his touch. 

When some of his friends had married, he had never heard of them feeling this way about their wife. They would talk about her beauty and poise. They would comment on how well brought up she was and how great she was in bed. None of them talked about how their hearts would beat just for her. How her eyes in the candlelight make him feel the kind of peace that wise men hope to achieve through meditation. How her beauty and strength render him speechless, the sound of her voice, a comfort. None of them told him because perhaps they didn’t know. 

“Say it again,” she whispers, bowing her head so their foreheads touch. 

“Li Mulan.” She grins, her eyes closed and her fingers gentle on his face. “Li Mulan,” he says again, his heart pounding. He kisses her softly, their lips fitting together perfectly and lingering. She pulls him with her so she’s lying on her back and he’s now the one propped up on an elbow, their faces still connected with tender kisses.

She sighs one of those content sounds as he moves his kisses lower. This is the first time she doesn’t stop him from the delicate touch of his lips to her breast. Then again, he hasn’t really tried. It always looks so painful when they first unravel her from her bindings. He’s afraid to hurt her. 

“It’s okay,” she says when he pauses. He looks up at her and she nods, one of her hands gliding through his hair fondly. 

He’s careful as he runs his fingers over her, lowering his lips to her nipple. He licks, his tongue swirling around her and he feels her relax under him. He’s still afraid to hurt her so he holds back from sucking even gently, so he sticks to grazing his lips over her and licking the raised bump with alternating flicks and long, lingering tastes. 

One of her hands finds his and guides it down her stomach until they’re reaching between her legs, his fingers finding the wet of his own semen mixed with her ecstasy. Her hand slowly pushes two of his fingers into her. Her breath hitches and he pushes in deeper. 

When she tilts his face back up to hers, he kisses her and sucks her tongue into his mouth, his heart jumping at her whimper. His fingers pump and she gyrates against him, her kisses becoming faster and heated.

One of her hands dips between his legs, her fingers trailing up his thigh to his balls and up his cock that’s clearly ready for more already. Her finger idly plays with the sensitive tip before she pulls him on top of her. 

Shang and Mulan don’t sleep. Between ravaging each other endlessly, they talk, whispering sweet nothings and laughing. The wind hasn’t settled, but the sun has risen, and finally, Mulan’s eyes flutter shut, her head gently nestled against his chest. He has never felt more at one with someone than he does with her right now. His eyes close and he snuggles closer to her, his dreams seeping in. 

When he wakes, Mulan has her clothes on and is sitting on the floor eating some dried meat. He rubs his eyes and sits up. The wind is still howling. He doesn’t much care anymore. Usually, a storm like this would be torture. He likes to keep moving, but this small rest with her is everything he wanted. Mulan grabs some more and brings it to him. 

“How did you sleep?” she asks as she makes herself comfortable at the end of the bed. 

“I dreamed of us,” he says in a voice that sounds tired even to him. He takes a slow deep breath through his nose as he chews on his rationed breakfast. Even as he tries to remember the dream, it vanishes, wisps floating up like the smoke from a flame. 

“I dreamed of telling Father that I was going to marry you as I am already your wife.” Her face and voice give away nothing about if the outcome of this imagined scenario went well or not. He raises his eyebrows and waits. “If it had been real life, he would have forbidden it. It was not, so he told me a story of the cherry tree we were sitting under as he did when I was young.” She smiles faintly. 

“I never thought of Fa Zhou to be a man to talk of cherry blossoms,” Shang says, recalling the stories of a man in battle. The man was a war hero but he spoke to his daughter of flowers. “Are you his only daughter?” It occurs to him that she has never spoken of having any siblings. She knows that he has sisters, all married off except one, and that his brothers are none of blood. 

“I am.” She sits up straighter and combs her fingers through her hair. “My brother would have been my only sibling.” She shrugs with one shoulder before adding, “Ping.” 

“That name sounds familiar…” Shang jokes. She smiles and he’s surprised that the clouds don’t part, the wind doesn’t stop, the dust doesn’t settle, because for him, her smile calms all storms that rage. Her smiles bring him to his knees. 

The dust storm had finally let up in the middle of the night, so the next morning after Mulan’s request for him to join her at breakfast with her brothers, Shang walks down long enough after her that no eyebrows will be raised. As he approaches, it isn’t lost on him how far apart Ling and Po are sitting. Mulan is by Po, her hands around a cup of not-tea and she looks up at Shang as he walks over. They all greet him as he takes a seat in the vacant space between Po and Ling. 

“How about you, Captain? Did you manage to make it back to your tent before the storm hit?” Ling asks. “Yao didn’t. He ended up with Ye and Chau.” 

“I was actually in my tent when it hit,” Shang says evenly, trying not to look at Mulan. 

“What luck!” Ling says.

“I was too,” Po says. 

“Ping?” Yao asks. Now Shang looks. Mulan almost spits her drink but recovers easily enough. 

“I ducked into a tent but they never made it so I was alone,” she says. “Some storm, huh?” The conversation moves around her as she keeps her eyes from Shang save for a few furtive glances that he catches because he’s doing the exact same thing. 


	13. Chapter 13

They’re setting up a false base. Shang is overseeing and correcting if need be while he works with the General’s plans. Everyone is paired off to accomplish tasks faster over a greater area. Mulan and Po work together but they’re far from anyone else. No one can even be seen from where they are. They would have to walk over the crest of the hill to rejoin their unit, but they still have work to do. 

“May I ask you something?” Po asks as they work. Mulan nods, expecting questions about her home life or how much longer she thinks the war will be or if she thinks they will have to kill anyone else. “Do you have feelings for the Captain?” 

Mulan chokes and looks at Po with wide eyes. “No!” She shakes her head vigorously, face burning. This is where it ends. This is how she gets found out. Po saw something. He knows. Her heart rises into her throat. “No!” 

“It’s okay,” he says. “Sometimes the lines of friendship get blurred and you start to feel...more…” 

“Infatuation or not, it can’t happen,” Mulan says stiffly. “He’s my Captain.” 

“Something tells me we both find ourselves with one-sided affections for men we simply can’t have,” Po says quietly as he starts setting up a fire for their lunch. Mulan sits back and has a drink of water as she thinks. He’s obviously talking about Ling, but from what she saw a month ago, it was far from one-sided. 

“Why don’t you think Ling returns your affections?” she asks to take the heat off of her. 

“How did you know it was Ling?” 

“How did you know it was Shang?” She almost kicks herself for saying his name but decides that biting the inside of her cheek will be enough. She feels her face heat again and her stomach flip. 

“I see the way you look at him when you think no one is looking.” Po is also pink in the cheeks. He’d thought he and Ling had been more subtle, but so had she. 

“More is said in the distance you put between yourselves recently.” She grabs a stick and pokes the flames as he takes out the things to make buns. “I think you should talk to him though. He might feel the same way you do.” 

“I know why you can’t talk to Captain Li, but I can’t just tell Ling that things are different for me.” Po shakes his head. He’s much bigger than Mulan, but somehow looks smaller now when he sighs, a little deflated. 

“He kisses you back,” she points out, leaving behind her lie that she had simply guessed by the way they acted around each other with company. Po’s head snaps up quickly. “Tell him.” 

“Do you think Captain Li knows?” he asks instead of continuing to talk about Ling. The smell of the food is making her nauseous. She swallows hard and tries to steady herself, but it isn’t helping. “Ping?” 

Mulan covers her mouth and scrambles away from the fire before retching into the dirt. Yeah, she thinks he knows. He might have an inkling from when she first kissed back beside the lake half a year ago. He might have had suspicions of her feelings for him when she flat out confessed her love for him. There might have been a spark of understanding when they had decided they were married. There was a strong possibility that he knew. Especially now that she was carrying his child. 

Shang had told her he suspected she might be with child the previous week when the sickness had started and her blood had failed to come. The smells of her favorite foods made her nauseous and she was exhausted. At first, they had thought she’d fallen ill and he’d taken her off duty for a few days. When there was no fever, no chills, nothing other than the few things he had once heard had happened to his friend’s wife when she was expecting, he’d told her. 

“I can’t be!” she’d said even as she wrapped her arms around her middle protectively. “We can’t! What are we going to do?” And then she had cried so hard he hadn’t been able to answer. He’d wrapped her in his arms and held her as she sobbed into him.

No, it isn’t one-sided and yes, he very obviously knows. 

“Are you still sick?” Po asks as Mulan wipes her mouth and sits back with a steadying breath. 

“I’m fine,” she answers, waving him off. “If Captain Li knows, he’s been kind enough not to draw attention to it. Do Ling and Yao know?” 

“No. Ling has only mentioned it a few times, but Yao says you two are just friends.” 

Mulan nods stiffly. The last thing she needs is the whole camp figuring it out. It’s more difficult than she thought to hide her true feelings. She might have been able to pull off being a man without suspicions raised, but apparently Po and Ling have deciphered her longing stares that she thought no one would notice. Hopefully, they don’t see Shang returning those looks or brushing her fingers with his when he hands her things or passes by her. Not that she will last much longer. Eventually, she will begin to show and the infant that follows will surely clue everyone in. 

“When did you see us kiss?” Po asks suddenly. 

“I didn’t,” she lies badly, looking away and busying herself with nothing in particular. Wow, that rock sure is smooth. 

“You said you saw him kiss me back.”

“Did I?” She glances up to his eyes that seem to see right through her. “Poor choice of words perhaps. I didn’t see anything. I was guessing.” 

“Ping.”

“I might have seen you two right before the dust storm last month,” she says quickly hoping it’s too quick for him to actually hear what she says. Instead, he covers his face in embarrassed horror as she cringes and does the same, muttering her profuse apologies. The muffled groans of mortification behind his hands turns into giggling and soon they’re wheezing with laughter over the entire situation. 

When they regain composure, Mulan takes a bun from Po as she tries not to breathe in the aroma. She can feel him watching her to see if she’s still sick. To him, that’s all this is. To her, it’s a time limit of when she loses everything. 

“How long have you loved him?” Mulan asks as she takes small bites, willing herself to keep it down. 

“I never used that word,” Po argues. “I had thought about it a long time ago when I was starting to realize my jealousy during his matching was because of him and not because of whatever bride he would have. I didn’t really know until he asked if we could…” He clears his throat awkwardly. 

“Right.” She nods. 

“What about you?” His voice is gentle as it always is. He just doesn’t realize just how dangerous the words are. “Is it love?”  
  
“Unfortunately, it very well could be.” _It is_ , her heart screams. “Since I walked into camp on that very first day.” She had noticed him that day in a way no other soldier did and had been foolish enough to let her heart run free with the idea of him holding her until it became her reality. It wasn’t love until she was in too deep. It wasn’t love until she was willing to tell him the truth of who she was and still, that felt like ages ago.

“So your girl worth fighting for?”  
  
“It will always be him.” Mulan picks at the bun. “And yours?”  
  
“Well, he does cook a mean roast.” 

At the end of the day, Mulan and Po rejoin their unit, everyone’s jobs complete for the night. His stomach is growling, ready for a meal that is sure to make her nauseas. As they reach the edges of their actual camp, she steps away from him with a muttered, vague excuse. She steers clear of everyone as she walks along the edge of the tents. Fires are popping up as the men start settling in for dinner and she ignores it as she slips into Shang’s tent unnoticed. 

She pulls off her armor and shivers before she quickly undoes her binding. Her chest hurts, the breasts tender to the touch. She hasn’t been tying it tighter, but she might as well be with how much pain she’s in. She sucks in a harsh breath and wraps her arms around herself before letting her hair down and grabbing Shang’s extra shirt and socks. 

He should be at dinner for a while. He might even have to check in with the General. Mulan sighs and crawls into his bed alone, disinterested in food and far past exhaustion. She pulls the blanket up and falls asleep the moment her heavy eyelids close. 

A month passes, but still she’s nauseous and barely keeps food down. She’s more fatigued now than she had ever felt even back at training camp. Her chest grows in tenderness every day. And now? Now, unnoticeable to anyone else, except Shang, there is a tiny bump. 

Right now, in his tent with the chill of December pressing in around their camp, his kisses against her skin keep her warm, the fires that he ignites within her burning hot. Their clothes lay abandoned on the floor as his lips trail over her hips. 

His lips press against her stomach. “I know it’s dangerous, but…” He swallows hard and kisses her again. 

“I know,” she whispers, running her hand through his hair and down the side of his face. She wants this baby too. She wants a family with him. The thought of holding their baby in her arms… A baby with his dark eyes and tanned skin. Their hands, locked together, run over the bump together. 

“What are we going to do?” he whispers, looking up at her as if she has the answers to every question in his heart. She presses a finger to his lips and traces his mouth as he kisses her fingertips. 

“Are we going hunting tomorrow?” she asks as he sucks her middle finger into his mouth. 

“Are you sure you want to go? I can always bring someone else,” he offers, her finger still in his mouth. 

“Don’t you dare.” 

He grins before climbing on top of her, replacing her finger in his mouth with her tongue. She wraps her legs around him, already wet, already aching with want. He slides in fast, filling her as he swallows her gasp. 

Mulan waits with Magu as Shang informs the General that this hunting trip will take longer because the hunt has moved farther out due to their camping and skirmishes. From his voice, Mulan knows that this time it isn’t a lie when he says it. Sometimes when it’s just them, he says it should take all day just to have time alone with her, but this time she knows it’s the truth. 

Shang mounts his own horse and leads her away from camp. Yao, Ling, and Po all wave her off before returning to their own duties. She rolls her eyes at their dramatics even as she grins. As per usual, when they are far enough from camp, Shang glances over his shoulder and gestures for her to ride alongside him. 

“Captain,” she says not at all casually. 

“Soldier,” he answers with a smirk. 

“I’ll race you, but I doubt your horse can keep up with Magu,” she teases. Shang shakes his head. He loves her competitive side. No one else ever has, but he seems to love it. She’s always been told to sit down and be quiet and he is the first to tell her to stand up and say something. She can show off for him. She can show him the cool tricks she’s learned how to do with her bow and arrows, how well she can lift her own deer over her shoulders, how fast she can gallop with her horse. He adores all of it and she feels free. 

Mulan takes her shot. Two arrows sail through the air and take the deer down with ease. She grins triumphantly and Shang bows to her like he would never be able to in front of anyone else. She puffs her chest out and laughs before running toward her kill to collect. Shang is scanning to see if there’s anything else in this immediate area. He doesn’t know it, but his face becomes serious when he’s focusing. His eyebrows draw together and he clenches his jaw. She looks back at the deer, tearing her eyes away from him, and pulls the arrows out of the two wounds. As she hoists the carcass onto her shoulders, she sees it. 

Tiger. 

“RUN!” Mulan yells, dropping the deer and sprinting. Shang turns and his eyes widen just before white hot pain shoots up her leg and she falls. She’d heard the warning growls and the loud screech of attack. The claw is deep in her thigh and she lets out a scream. 

“Mulan!” Shang calls. 

“Go!” she manages to yell back before the tiger’s claw plunges into her calf next. She reaches toward her bow with a shaking hand. The pain is blinding and then the tiger has moved on. She looks up and sees that Shang hadn’t run. He’s trying to fight the tiger off of her. “Shang!”

His sword has managed a few deep slashes in the tiger, but not enough to take it down. Instead, it raises an arm and swipes, four long nails carving into Shang’s chest, pulling the armor away with ease. 

“No!” She screams as she grabs her bow and lines up an arrow to shoot. Three land in its side as Shang falls. Blood is spilling from his chest. “Shang! No! No, no, no, no!” 

Her opponent turns back to her and gives a low growl as it approaches. She can’t move her leg and her stomach hurts like it never has before. Blood spills from her leg, pooling around her as pain radiates through her. She pulls her father’s sword from her waist with a shaking hand. She’s losing too much blood. Her shoulder is clamped between two massive jaws, teeth sinking into her muscle. It feels slow but she knows better. She lets out a scream, her sword buried deep in the tiger’s chest. 

The jaws go limp, releasing her as the tiger falls. She tries to roll out of the way of the heavy body but her leg is trapped. She is pinned down with the world swimming before her.

“Shang!” She reaches toward him, trying to drag herself toward him. Her stomach gives another shattering spike of pain and she curls in on herself. Blood had already been soaking her pants, but now she feels the rush of fresh blood coating her thighs. “No.” She doesn’t know how she knows, but she knows that she’s losing their baby. It’s a blessing in disguise, but her heart is ripping to shreds. The pain and the blood loss is making her vision go black around the edges. 

“Mulan,” Shang coughs. He’s awake. She reaches for him with her one good arm and their fingertips brush. She tries again and his fingers curl with hers, their hands locking into a single fist between them. He pulls and cries out at the pain. She hears her own scream but doesn’t feel herself do it. “You’re hurt.”  
  
“I’m okay,” she says though it comes out in a harsh breath. “Stay with me.”

“Mulan…” he breathes. His eyelids flutter. He’s getting fuzzier and he sounds farther away though they haven’t moved. She grits her teeth and lets out the inhuman noise of guttural pain as she tries to free herself. 

“Magu!” she calls. She has to get them out of here. They have to get back. “Shang, stay with me.” She looks down at the blood-covered ground under her and back up at Shang. 

“Mulan…” It’s the only thing he can say as he fades in and out. Her eyes slide shut and she tries to keep her grip on Shang’s hand tight. The heavy steps of her horse make her open her eyes again. 

She reaches up and ignores her own howls of pain as she tries to pull herself up, her hands digging into the smooth coat of her family’s horse. Her grip slips and her wounded shoulder slams into the ground. The world goes black and the last thing she hears is hooves retreating. 


	14. Chapter 14

Yao misses home. Po and Ling can cook (After Po started teaching Ling, he managed to make an excellent roast), but Biyu, his wife, makes his favorite foods. She serves tea. She smiles demurely and he misses the way she would giggle when he pulled her into his arms. They hadn’t known each other long. He was lucky that the matchmaker had found the perfect woman for him. She was beautiful and kind and she had already born him a son. She was a perfect wife and mother. He takes a sip of his pitiful attempt at tea and frowns into his cup. He misses her. 

“Yao?” Ling asks. Yao looks up and grunts. “Where did your thoughts take you?” 

“Shouldn’t Ping be back by now with Captain Li?” he asks instead of divulging his homesickness. His wife is a burning star in his heart that he refuses to share outwardly. Her name will not be uttered on a battlefield unless it’s his dying breath. 

“They should be here any time now,” Po says evenly. His temper is always calm, his suspicions notoriously low, his entire being too kind to be in a war. 

Yao glances between Ling and Po. They can keep lying to each other and themselves for the rest of their lives, but the tension between them is thick enough to cut with a blade. It doesn’t surprise him though. Po’s reaction to Ling being matched wasn’t one that could be misinterpreted except by idiots. Ling had been matched to the dying girl and Po had refused to leave his house for a week. He’d called it illness, but Yao had eyes. Now that they’d kissed, things were only getting worse. He knows it went further but he doesn’t want to think about it. They sit far apart to keep the sparks from lighting the entire camp on fire, but it only makes it all the more obvious. Not that he cares. Yao really couldn’t care less who either of them kiss or fuck. Except that Po and Ling did really work well together. And they make a cute couple. Not that he thinks about it really. 

“No, I thought they were due back before dinner,” Ling says after swallowing his mouthful of rice. “It’s getting dark.” 

“I’m worried.” 

“They might just be running late. I’m sure they are completely fine,” Po tries again, but Yao isn’t buying it. “I can hear their horses now.” Yao hears it. He stands and looks for his Captain. 

A white horse rides into camp without a rider. His stomach twists. Another man calms Captain Li’s horse, walking him to the stable. Yao, Ling, and Po all get up and run toward where the first horse came through. Where is the second? Where are they?

Ping’s horse is black with white markings. His name is Magu. He is without a rider. He gallops straight to Yao and that’s when they see the blood streaking his front leg. It’s dried, but there’s a decent amount of blood smeared into his hair. 

“Ping,” Ling breathes, looking up at them. 

“We need to go find him and Captain Li,” Yao says. 

“It’s too dark,” Po says, ever the voice of reason. 

“Then we’ll go in the morning. I’m going to the General to tell him.” 

“What if he’s dead?” Ling asks and Yao’s heart stutters. There was a time not that long ago that he wouldn’t have cared and that thought makes him just as sick as the idea of Ping never returning from this hunting trip. 

The next morning at dawn, Yao has a small group of men ready to go on a rescue mission for Captain Li and Ping. Most are the men who trained under Captain Li, one is an archer who has been training Ping in his spare time. Yao is the leader of this expedition and leads his group away from camp and out in the direction that the Captain and Ping had disappeared in the day before. 

“Keep your eyes open!” Yao orders. “We don’t know how far they got or where they are!” The General had given Yao as much information as he had. Ping and Captain Li had a destination in mind and it was a little less than half a day away. _If_ they made it there, Yao has no idea how long they’ve been stranded. They brought the medic with them, ready for anything though Yao had prevented him from saying anything about the possibility of death. 

Yao spots them right where they had said they would be. It’s hard to miss them. There’s a dead tiger draped over someone and a dead deer in the distance. Captain Li and Ping’s hands are locked but neither seems to be conscious, blood all around them. 

Everyone dismounts and runs to them. Yao kneels beside Ping with Ling close behind. Po had stayed behind at camp, washing the blood from Magu. 

Ping’s face is pale, his eyes closed. His shoulder is shredded by what looks like a bite mark, blood caked to his clothes. The tiger is on top of his leg and it looks like there’s a pool of blood beneath him. Ping’s breaths are shallow and on an exhale, he groans. 

“Ping!” Ling says, hesitating to touch him. 

“Can you speak?” Yao asks, also afraid to touch much more of him than he already has. There is blood all over him and there’s no telling if it’s all his or not. Ping doesn’t wake though. No other noises rise up from him and he doesn’t move. “We need to get the tiger off of him. Someone get sutures for his shoulder.” Yao glances up to see the doctor is already working on Captain Li. 

A group of men, including Yao, lift the tiger away from Ping and he sees just how mangled Ping’s leg is. If the tiger hadn’t landed there, he would already be dead. Yao takes a dagger and cuts the pant leg off so they won’t have to jostle him as Jun, Ping’s archer friend, comes over with the needle from the doctor. He has basic training from his father at home. Jun’s family had been the medical men in his town and with the doctor busy with the Captain, Jun is Ping’s only option. 

Yao watches with anxiety coursing through him as Ping’s leg is stitched, bandaged, and immobilized, his shoulder wrapped. Jun helps lift Ping into Ling’s arms up on his horse. Ling nods to Yao before setting off, Jun following close behind them. Captain Li is lifted onto Yao’s horse and everyone else starts back only a few minutes behind Ling, Ping, and Jun. The tiger and the deer are brought back, the hunt somewhat successful. 

The wounds on the tiger tell Yao the story of how it died at Ping’s hand. The deep stab that entered and reached the beast’s lung was the final blow. 

“Shang!” Ping calls out in his sleep a few days later. It’s the first time he’s woken enough to speak. The man is on the brink of death and the only word he can say is a name. Yao sits up and looks at Po who is sleeping closer to Ping than he is. He also doesn’t seem surprised by the name Ping calls out in his sleep. 

“Ping… Shh... It’s okay…” Po says, getting up and going to him. Captain Li had become stable enough to sleep in his own tent, though the doctor will have to check on him often. There’s no saying how long Ping and Captain Li will be unable to work. 

Ping screams and jolts awake, almost sitting up before the pain in his shoulder stops him. He blinks and looks around like he has no idea where he is before he looks to each of their faces. His eyes fall to his leg, still bound and bloody. 

“Is he alright? Is he alive?” Ping asks, looking up to Po. 

“He will be. He is resting like you should be,” Po says gently. “He’s alive.” Ping nods and tries to relax back into his bed before his eyes shut again. Tears stream silently but no one says a word until they know he’s asleep. 

“What?” Ling asks finally, voicing the only sentiment that Yao can think of. “If I didn’t know better, I’d say Ping has it bad for the Captain. It’s all he would say when he could speak on our way back to camp.” 

Po doesn’t say anything which is more telling than if he had. Yao looks back at Ping, his hair damp and sticking to his face, jaw slack with sleep. He’s in love? With the Captain? 

“How do you know?” Ling asks like it matters. 

“We talked about it, alright?” Po carefully pulls Ping’s blanket back into place before returning to his own bed. “Just leave it.” 

Yao can’t imagine the anguish in Ping’s heart if he really is in love. He could never imagine Biyu being in the state that Captain Li is. It had been hard enough when she was birthing their son. He had heard her cries, but she and their babe had survived the ordeal. Ping had probably watched as Captain Li was scratched by the tiger and he’d probably felt his heart shatter. If he really is in love that is. And judging by his panicked outbursts from his nightmares throughout the night, he probably, most definitely is. 

Two weeks later, Yao returns to the tent with fresh clothes for Ping to change into. He’s well enough that he can probably handle the change out of the bloodied, cut clothes. The cloth used to be white and is now a murky brown from the dried red. Rips from the claws and teeth mark the shirt, his pant leg is missing from where Yao had to cut. And Ping is refusing help. 

“I can do this myself,” Ping insists, taking the clothes from Yao. 

“What’s the big deal? We’ve all seen each other naked,” Ling points out. Ping glares and shakes his head adamantly. “Yao.”

“If he wants to hurt himself to get dressed alone then let him,” Yao says with a huff. “We will wait outside.” Ling and Po follow Yao out of the tent and sit at the entrance waiting. 

“Why are we out here?” Ling whispers angrily. “He shouldn’t be even trying to do this alone! Did you see his leg? And his shoulder? We should be helping him!”  
“He wants privacy,” Po says quietly. 

“If he asks for help, we will be right here to go back in. Until then, we wait,” Yao says. He’s used to being the hot-headed one that Po needs to bring down from a boil to a simmer. Today, he’s calm. It could be that seeing Ping like that took a lot out of him. It could be having to carry the Captain back. It could be the mid-night revelations of the secrets of Ping’s heart. It doesn’t matter if there’s one reason or twenty, Yao is quiet, his mind contemplative. 

Ping’s scream is loud. Ling twitches, about to jump up and run in to his rescue, but Po puts a steadying hand on his arm and keeps him there. Yao doesn’t miss that Po’s hand lingers there before returning to his own lap. 

“Ping?” Po asks when the shout has spiraled down to a heavy breathing.

“I’m fine. I need bandages, but I’m okay,” he answers, voice strained. 

“I’ll go get the doctor,” Ling announces as he hops up and leaves. Yao and Po get up and walk back into the tent. The old clothes are ruined. No longer on, the two garments look more like shredded rags than clothes. Ping looks farther from death now that he isn’t wearing his own blood, but his jaw is clenched tight, chest heaving as he tries to breathe through it all. 

Po helps Ping lie back in bed carefully before asking, “What happened?” 

“I didn’t see the tiger,” Ping says through gritted teeth. He lets out a harsh breath and closes his eyes. “I told Captain Li to run but when I was attacked…” Ping’s head falls to the side and he looks as if he might cry again. 

The doctor returns with Ling and the bandages are changed while Ping bites down on his new sleeve. He doesn’t make a sound, only clenches his eyes as tight as his jaw. His pant leg is lifted as the bandages from only the night before are removed. It’s easier to see the claw marks in his thigh, a few deep punctures in his calf, and the rough stitches that the doctor had placed before Ling had brought Ping back to camp. The same happens with his shoulder. The bite marks are clearer now without the gushing blood and Ping is bandaged back up without a sound even with all of the tears. 

“Do you need anything?” Po asks when the doctor is gone.  
  
“Rest,” Ping answers, voice rough. 

Yao, Ling, and Po walk outside and stop. “One of us has to stay with him,” Yao states. Ling and Po nod in agreement. “Do we have jobs today?”

“I’m scouting.” Ling frowns.  
  
“I was supposed to check on the false camp with Ping.” Po tries not to look back into the tent. His partner will be changed but he shouldn’t be taken off the mission. 

“I was going to help Captain Li with sparring lessons for some of the weaker men today so that leaves me.” Yao takes a deep breath. He’s not one for bedside manner or nursing anyone back to health, but he can do this. 

“We will come back to check on him at lunch,” Ling offers. They all nod in agreement and then Yao is alone. 

Jun approaches the tent with two bowls of steaming something and offers one to Yao. “I brought some food. How is Ping?” 

“He might be hungry,” Yao allows. He’s exhausted just from being close to Ping’s agony. “Thank you, Jun.” The man bows his head before entering the tent. Yao looks in after him, the flap staying just open enough for him to watch as Jun kneels beside Ping and helps him sit up to eat. 

It’s rude to eavesdrop, but Yao can’t help himself. Jun has only shared a few meals with them after training with Ping. He’s usually with his other archers from the General’s Army. He’s nice enough, although he is a bit of a pretty boy. 

“How are you feeling?” Jun asks. 

“I feel as good as I look,” Ping sighs. Yao winces. He’s seen what’s under the bandages. He knows just how beat up his brother is. 

“You look…” Jun trails off and shakes his head. “I’m glad you’re okay. I thought it was going to be much worse when we found you like that.”

“You know me. I can take care of myself.” 

“I was worried.” Jun takes a deep breath. “I was worried for you.” Yao watches as Jun raises a hand to Ping’s jaw and gently kisses him. Ping pulls away immediately, eyes wide. Rage flows through Yao. 

“Don’t,” Ping says, pushing the food that was brought for him away, the rice spilling onto the floor. 

“I’m sorry!” Jun moves away from him quickly, stammering apologies. 

“I think you should go,” Yao says, stepping into the tent. He can feel his fists tightening. He’s going to kill him if he stays here any longer. Jun scrambles to his feet and looks from Yao to Ping.

“Please go,” Ping says without looking at him. Yao glares at Jun, seething and ready to end him here and now but Jun leaves. He half falls out of the tent as he practically runs from them. 

“I am going to kill him,” Yao warns through his teeth as he starts after him. 

“Stay!” Ping shouts and Yao freezes. “Please.” He’ll stay for now, but only because Ping is looking at him like a little brother who needs him. 

He nods and steps away from the entrance to kneel beside Ping and start picking up the spilled rice. It’s oddly reminiscent of their first encounter when the entire camp had picked up rice after the chase that Ping had led him on. 

“I’m sorry.” 

“What are you apologizing for?” Yao grumbles. “ _He_ should be apologizing. Are you okay?” Ping nods, wiping his hand across his mouth to remove the kiss. Ping looks pale except for the bright red of his cheeks. This close, Yao can see the glazed look in his eyes. “Ping?”  
“I don’t feel well,” he breathes, swaying a little. Yao helps him to lie down again and feels his forehead. It’s burning to touch. 

“Okay. Okay. Rest.” 

Ping wipes his mouth again as he starts to cry. “No. No.” He drags his hand down his face a few times to rid the tears and smear them into his lips before sleep starts to take him again. Yao’s anger bubbles. 

Ping’s heart belongs to one who can’t return it, but it’s still locked away, pining and worrying over him. He doesn’t need the kisses of another to hurt him, tear his heart up. Yao storms out of the tent. 

“Yao!” Ling calls. Yao ignores him, his rage loud in his ears. His fists are ready to pummel the lights out of Jun. Archer of the Army or not, he will end today. 

“Yao!” Po tries. Yao keeps going, his eyes set on the tent that he knows belongs to Jun. “Where are you going? Is Ping okay?”  
“I’m going to kill Jun,” Yao says through his teeth. Po grabs his arms and stops his march. “Let go.”

“Count to ten! Take deep breaths! Ground yourself!” 

“I don’t want to count. I won’t take deep breaths. I am plenty grounded,” Yao snorts. “I watched Jun kiss Ping. I watched Ping pull away, his heart with another. I watched Ping cry. His fever is spiked. He’s sleeping. And Jun will die by my hand.” 

“He did _what_?” Ling shouts. Po grabs him too and starts dragging them both back to Ping. It’s easy to forget how strong Po really is considering he rarely uses it. “Po, we have to protect Ping!”  
“Protect him by being with him when he needs us,” Po says evenly and forcefully. “We can’t start a civil war within this Army over a misplaced kiss.” He doesn’t look at Ling. 

“Shang!” Ping screams in the tent. Jun is forgotten. All three of them run into the tent. Ping is panting, sitting up even though his eyes are half-lidded with feverish sleep. “He’s dead! He’s dead! SHANG!”  
“I’ll go check on him,” Ling says. He’s the fastest of the three of them so Po and Yao nod, holding Ping and easing him back down to sleep. 

It feels like days have passed but it’s barely been an hour before Ling returns. His eyebrows are turned up in the center and he kneels beside Ping. 

“Shang?” Ping whispers. 

“He’s alive. He’s doing well now. Sleep, Ping. The Captain is fine.” Ping relaxes and his eyes slide shut, immediately calmed by the news. 

Ling looks up at Yao and Po. “He was in a similar state, thrashing and calling out for Mulan.” 

“Mulan? Do you think that’s his wife? Or betrothed?” Po asks. Yao nods. It has to be. 

“I don’t know, but he was calling for her. He wouldn’t settle until I told him that she and their baby were okay.” 

“He has a child?” Yao wonders aloud. Po’s shoulders sag. “We shouldn’t be surprised he has a wife and a child.”

“Ping never stood a chance,” Ling mutters. 

“Captain Li is a _Captain_ and Ping is a _soldier_. He never stood a chance anyway. It would have been inappropriate,” Yao hisses. 

“He’s in love,” Po tries. 

“And the other is a _Captain_ who is likely married,” Yao says again. 

“Right,” Ling concedes. 

“It’s for the best,” Yao whispers. 

Po huffs in the silence. “Betrothed or married, it doesn’t matter. Jun is married and has two sons and he still kissed Ping. He could—” 

“Stop it! He is a _Captain_.” 

“I want Ping to be happy!” They all want Ping to be happy and uninjured and back to being well and saying the strange things he does that make him sound like every day is his first day. 

“An affair with his Captain would make him happy until it got them both killed.” Their heads would roll for it. Yao had seen it happen once before with actual lovers. A kind woman who was married to a merchant in town had been dragged up for the town to see. Beside her was her accused lover, the man who had taught Yao how to fight in school. Everyone knew how this would go. The accused would be killed, their heads severed from their bodies. If in death their faces turned toward each other, they were true lovers. If not, it was a mistake caused by loose tongues and idle gossip. His teacher’s face had turned toward hers, their empty eyes locked. If Ping was happy, they’d face each other in death showing just how happy and disgraceful they had been in life. They don’t deserve the dishonor just for a moment of happiness. Ping’s affections are one-sided anyway. “The Captain has Mulan. Let it rest.”

“Right,” Po says, sitting back with Ling. They glance at each other and away. 

“It’s for the best,” they all quietly agree. 

It’s a week before Captain Li is able to leave his tent. Ping still can’t stand. They’ve been having all of their meals in the tent with him. Po invited Captain Li to dinner. Yao punched Po. Captain Li came to dinner. 

“You’re alright,” Captain Li says the second he steps into the tent. Ping looks up at him with a strange look of grief shining in his eyes before he nods and looks down. 

“You should have run.”

“You would have been killed.” Captain Li’s voice has an edge that’s dangerously sharp and shocks Yao, Ling, and Po. They notice that they’re hovering at the door watching the interaction with the food in their arms. Still, none of them move. 

“You wouldn’t have been hurt.” Ping grits his teeth before relaxing and sighing.  
“You know that’s not true.” It’s a breath, almost a whisper. Ping nods and curls his fingers into his palm. “Are you okay?”

“Besides my leg, my shoulder, m— my…” Ping looks down and immediately starts sobbing. Po almost steps forward but Captain Li reaches out to Ping. “I’m sorry.”  
  
“Don’t.” He clenches his jaw. “What else happened?” 

“Jun kissed Ping,” Ling blurts out. 

Captain Li’s eyes darken and he looks at Ping. “Did he hurt you?”

“No. Yao was there to send him away. I’m fine,” Ping says. “Let’s just eat.” 

“Ping?” Po whispers. Yao doesn’t open his eyes. It’s the middle of the night and he’s grown accustomed to waking at any little sound. He used to sleep like a rock back at home when there were no threats. 

“I want to write home,” Ping whispers back. “I can’t though. And what would I tell them? I want to tell them that I’m alive because they probably thought I would die in training as I had thought. I want to tell them that I killed a tiger. That I fell in love. That I miss them and hope to bring honor to my family. I want to send my love and apologies. I can’t.”

“Why?”

“It’s complicated.” Ping sighs. “Talk to Ling.”

“What?”

“You all got in my business. I heard everyone talking about the Captain and my runaway heart. I heard all of you ready to go kill my friend because he kissed me. You all have an opinion so listen to mine. Talk to Ling.”

“Ping,” Po warns.

“You love him as I love another. So tell him before you lose him to hurt feelings or before one of your other friends kisses him.” They’re quiet for a moment. “Do you think I’m ruined now that he kissed me?”

“No and no one knows besides us four.” Po knows as well as Yao that Captain Li went to speak to the General. He hadn’t said why, but by the morning after he had found out about the kiss, Jun was sent on some mission far away, his tent and pack on the back of a horse as he rode away. 

“He sent Jun away,” Ling whispers. Yao can almost see Po pale in the darkness knowing that Ling heard what Ping had said only a moment ago. 

“Oh.” Ping gets quiet and Yao listens to everyone roll back over in their beds to go back to sleep.


	15. Art for Part 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> All art by insominia who never thought she would illustrate anything. Thank you for the wonderful artwork and everything else you've been doing with me for this fic!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> End of Part One, everyone! Enjoy the art! Part Two will start next Tuesday (there are 3 parts so strap in for a long story)! Thank you to everyone who is reading and leaving comments and kudos. Each one makes a world of difference for me. Leave questions, comments, hopes, in the comments! I love hearing what you think!


	16. Chapter 16

**Year Four**

Shang turns, pulling his sword from the belly of an enemy, ready to stab through another when an arrow soars over his head and straight into the eye of the man who had been a little too close to getting the jump on him. The arrow goes deep and the man’s knees go out from under him immediately. Blood spills from the eye down his face as he collapses. There’s no time to look up at his archer. He knows it’s her. 

Not everyone on the battlefield dies. Men retreat, shouts of defeat ring through the air, and both sides walk away with wounded men. No men from Shang’s unit have died in this battle. A few have severe cuts. Some are going to need a longer recovery. One man has a broken ankle. It’s basically a landslide victory. 

Shang leads his men and his secret wife off of their own personal frontline and back to the path that will lead them to their home of tents. “General Li,” one man calls as he approaches. It’s been a year since his promotion, but he still isn’t quite used to hearing himself be called General. Four years ago he had been made Captain and given an entire unit of men to train. Four years ago. The war is still raging after four years. They are still fighting. 

Shang spots Mulan coming down from her perch, her unit of archers coming after her. He wasn’t the only one with a promotion. She’s an Officer now. Officer Fa, head of her own archery unit and she is amazing at it. He will never get over just how strong she is. She may have a limp now from their tiger attack, but she walks as tall as the rest of them if not taller. Right now, she rides her horse. They are too far from camp for her leg to have made the journey. She rides ahead of her unit with a straight back and a victorious set to her face. She catches his eye as she always does and he gives her a small smile. Her lips twitch up just enough for him to see before it’s gone again, the smile only remaining in her shining brown eyes. 

As soon as they reach camp, a majority of the men flee to the mess tent. Shang waits, watching them go until Mulan is beside him, Magu back at the stables again. He falls into step beside her with ease. Even after four years, it’s still difficult to hide their relationship. It’s true that even if they were instead at a house as husband and wife that he wouldn’t be able to show the affection he holds for her outwardly as much as he would like to but it’s worse when the fact that he’s her husband is hidden from their family of soldiers. No one knows she’s his wife. No one knows that they have been romantically entwined for years. No one knows she’s a woman. 

They had thought that her brothers would figure it out, if not the entire camp when she was pregnant the second time. The first miscarriage was only in the second month, but the second happened in the fourth and had hurt them both so much more. It hurts to lose a child, but it’s agony to watch her lose their child. 

Their shoulders brush as they walk but both keep their eyes forward. “Good work today, Officer,” Shang says as they make their way toward the mess hall. 

“Thank you, General,” she says. Her voice is always changed outside of their tent. He doesn’t know how she does it or keeps it up, but Ping’s voice is the only one she uses during the day. “Will you be joining my brothers and me for dinner?”

“I will.” They walk in together, other conversations drowning theirs. Excitement runs high as the men tell tales or talk of their battle today even though most had been there. No one can see them amid the sea of soldiers so Shang chances a look down at Mulan as she chances a look up. Their fingers brush and he takes a step away, looking back up until he spots their two saved seats. 

“Ping!” Ling shouts excitedly. He always has something to recount and she always listens even as Yao rolls his eyes and begs for new conversation. 

“We have a day to relax tomorrow, don’t we?” Po asks as they eat. Shang looks up and nods. The plan had been to wipe out their enemy today and they had. Tomorrow was set to remain empty so the men could bathe and do their laundry to wash out the sweat and blood while letting their muscles rest just enough for the next expeditions to not wear them out. 

“Well deserved,” Mulan adds before sipping her tea. She and Yao had bought some from a merchant at the last town they had seen. Between the two of them, they keep their family fed. 

“I’m going swimming,” Ling announces with a grin. 

“Who isn’t in this heat?” Yao asks in his gravelly voice. 

“There are a few lakes though so it shouldn’t be too crowded,” Po offers. 

Mulan steals a glance at Shang. They had found a small lake that no one else seems to have found. It’s over one of the hills that surrounds their camp. They have spent more than one night bathing there together, the moonlight washing their naked bodies as they kissed and made love. 

“I’m turning in for the night,” she says as she stands. Shang hears the invitation meant for him. 

“But dinner!” Ling protests. 

“I finished and am well fed,” she half-laughs as she shows him her empty bowl. “See you tomorrow, brothers.” She takes her dishes with her as she leaves the table. 

“I’m afraid I also have to retire,” Shang says. His bowl is also empty. “Enjoy your night, gentlemen.” He bows his head to them and walks in the opposite direction as Mulan. To get to his tent he has to pass Mulan’s. When she was promoted and given her own unit, she’d also graduated to having her own tent. It’s where she keeps her armor and one of the teeth from the tiger that dared to bite her. There’s a crutch that stays there too, but it’s pushed from her mind very purposefully. When Shang had asked about it, all Mulan had said she didn’t need it. She hadn’t been able to walk without it for months.

Watching Mulan recover from her injuries was a different kind of pain. The first time he’d seen her after his chest had healed enough to leave his tent, he’d gone to eat with her. See her. Be near to her. He hadn’t known what to expect, but when he had seen her, sitting in her bed, one leg heavily bandaged and set in between two planks of wood, her shoulder much the same but that arm in a cloth sling, he’d felt his heart stutter, threatening to break. He hadn’t yet known that their first baby was gone and the grief she was carrying alone. Ling had thought her tears were for the kiss that lit a fuse within Shang that he hadn’t known was there. Jealousy turned into rage and that could have signed Jun’s life away. He had never written to find out if that soldier had ever returned from his suicide mission. 

Over the months, Mulan had slowly gained her mobility back. She started with crutches, her leg sometimes dragging. He’d seen her with the doctor and her brothers practicing bending it. He wasn’t allowed to tenderly brush her damp hair from her brow as she gritted her teeth through the pain. He could only watch if he happened to pass the right tent at the right time. Eventually, she could walk with her limp. She could hop up on her horse and ride. She was a force to be reckoned with. 

Shang pulls out a mortar and pestle that he’d bought in a town they passed years ago. The only thing he ever made with it was medicine for her. He grinds the herbs before adding them to a small bowl with the beeswax, water, and oil to make her salve. 

“Hello, husband,” Mulan says and he smiles before he even looks over his shoulder. She wraps her arms around him from behind and presses kisses into his neck and cheek. 

“Good evening, wife.” 

She releases him and goes to their bed, pulling her hair loose and letting it fall over her shoulders. He watches as her clothes fall to the floor. The binding she uses for her chest has changed to what used to be her sling. The shoulder wound had bled a great deal. 

“This was from my dress,” she had said in a soft voice, holding the bloodied rag in her hands. The statement was heavy. He could feel it too as she dropped it into the fire and watched the last piece of her dress burn up. 

Shang picks up the fresh salve and goes to her, kneeling before her on the bed as he dips his fingers into it. She drapes her bad leg over his knee so he can rub it in. She may be short but her legs are long and he loves that the sight of her bare leg, her naked body, her gorgeous form, still sends him reeling. He rubs the salve into her scars, his fingers trailing over the whiter, slightly raised skin. 

She undresses the top half of him as he works. His armor is pulled free, his shirt lifted, his tie taken. All that remains is everything below the waist, but she leans back. He glances up and sees her eyes taking him in. The smile on her lips is perfect. 

He had been worried that their attack in the woods would change her. That her injuries would scar more than her skin. That losing two children would take her smile. That killing men in battle would hurt her. She’s changed by all of it, but not for the worse. She’s stronger than he ever could have imagined. Before meeting her, he had been taught that women were soft and sweet. His sisters and his mother certainly are, but Mulan? Mulan is a woman that he would choose to be his fighting partner over any man despite his love for her wanting her out of harm’s way. 

“What are you thinking so seriously about?” she asks, pulling him from his thoughts. 

“What do women think of men?” 

“That’s what has your eyebrows knitted together?” She runs a thumb between his eyebrows gently. He relaxes his face and laughs. “I suppose we think they’re strong and disciplined… Then I walked into training camp and learned how wrong those ideas were so I don’t know anymore. I think we’re all the same. No one knows what they’re doing until they learn.” She shrugs like what she said wasn’t at all profound. “We’re all different too though. Yao will never be able to beat me at archery but I still can’t best him when we spar hand to hand. Ling is certainly better at cooking than I am but don’t tell him I told you that. Po would be a matchmaker’s dream for a woman. He’s everything I wasn’t the day I met mine.” She purses her lips in thought and shrugs again. “Why?”

“No reason.” He massages his thumbs into the scar tissue and watches her eyes close in bliss. “What do you want to do tomorrow?” 

“Stay in bed all day,” she says on a sensual exhale. “Let you ravage me from dawn until dusk. I’ll settle for taking you now.” His hands stop and he looks back up at her to see the wicked grin. She takes her leg back from his lap as he scrambles to stand and shed the rest of this clothing, almost falling over in the process. Her laugh is sweet and could probably heal the deepest of wounds. 

Shang lies down beside her, kissing her jaw and cheek as he makes his way to her lips. His hand runs up her body from hip to breast where he gently lets his finger circle her nipple. Her own hand presses against his chest before snaking up around his shoulder and into his hair. He loves when she takes a fistful and pulls just a little. 

Her lips part for his tongue before she sucks him into her mouth and pulls him closer, upping the urgency just enough. He knows she can feel him growing stiff against her thigh. He leaves a sloppy trail of kisses down to her throat and offers her a finger as he continues to descend. Her tongue swirls around his middle and first finger. He retaliates, his tongue matching hers but around her raised nipple. She whimpers, back arching a little to keep his mouth on her. 

His fingers wet, he takes them from her and reaches down between her spread legs. Her small gasp when he pushes into her is music to him. He sucks her breast gently as his fingers slide inside of her. She pulls his hair and bucks her hips against his hand, forcing him deeper and his pace to go faster. 

“Shh,” he whispers when she moans. 

“Make me,” she whispers back harshly. He captures her mouth with his and half crawls on top of her, his finger still pumping into her as his body pins her to the bed. One of her hands reaches down and joins his, a finger pressing against his two and filling her more. Their hands work together only for a few pumps before she takes his hand away from her and pulls his hips to hers. 

Shang bites her lip before sucking it into his mouth, still teasing her. He feels her fingers dig into him and he grins. He thrusts into her and feels his groan get swallowed up by her. Mulan’s hips rock against his, setting the rhythm for him and she isn’t in the mood to go slow. He thrusts fast and hard as she sucks on his tongue and moans, the sound muffled. 

Her back arches, their chests pressing together and the new angle hitting her so she whimpers and a shiver runs down her spine. Their kiss breaks as she starts to pant, her hot breath on his neck pulling him closer to her and closer to his own edge. He lowers his face into the dip between her neck and shoulder and drags his tongue over her scar before pressing a kiss and sucking.

“Shang,” she calls softly. His name in her mouth is everything still. He’s not going to last as long as he wants to. It’s been days of battle, days of exhaustion keeping them from their favorite night activity. He’s longed for this touch and it feels too good. Her breathy moans and kisses are too much. 

He starts to pull out but her hands stop him, pulling him back all the way into her and hard. He grunts and tries to focus to stop himself. “Mulan,” he breathes, refusing to move. Their hips are pressed together and her chest is still heaving as she looks up at him. 

“I don’t care what I said. Please,” she begs. “Fill me.” 

He swallows hard before she brings her face to his and kisses him slowly. Her hips roll against his in a pace matched to the kiss and he follows suit, pulling most of the way out and pushing back, feeling every bit of her along the way. He groans. Her tongue is in his mouth, her hands on his ass, her wet heat surrounding his hard cock. He pulls most of the way out before thrusting back, his eyes closing tight. One more and he’s finished even if he wants to continue. He doesn’t have a choice. He thrusts once more, hard, and feels himself release, ecstasy rolling over him as he shudders. Her hips roll, pulling more from him. 

It’s been a year of pulling out and coming on her thigh, the bed, a shirt, her chest, her ass, anywhere but inside of her. Mulan moans his name and buries her face into his chest, her body rigid with her own orgasm. They both finish around the same time and open their eyes. She’s glowing, smiling up at him with that look of dazed bliss. 

“Hey,” he breathes. She kisses the tip of his nose in answer. 

When he rolls off of her, she cuddles up against his side immediately, her head resting on his chest like the pillow he has been for her for the past four years. He pulls the blanket over them and hugs her to him. 

“I missed that,” she sighs. 

“It’s dangerous,” he says seriously. He doesn’t want to keep hurting her with children she can’t carry to term or raise if they do. 

“I know…” She draws nonsense symbols on his skin with the tip of her finger. “I love you.” 

“I love you.” He kisses the top of her head and sighs contentedly. “Mulan.” 


	17. Chapter 17

Mulan wakes up in the early morning and presses a kiss to her husband’s forehead as she sleeps before she gets up and pulls her clothes on. The air is crisp with that barely dawn stillness, the dew seeming to hang in the air as it slowly beads the grass. Over the years, they have perfected their sneaking around. They always go to his tent to sleep and she is the first to enter, finding her way there before most have finished their dinners or fireside chats. In the morning, she leaves before the light so no one sees her even if they’re awake. Her footsteps are light and there has never been anything close to someone catching them. 

This morning is just the same even though the men are allowed to sleep in enough to gain the extra hour before their free days to relax, bathe, laugh, and go to the merchants to buy anything they may need. Mulan often uses the mornings on days like these to stretch her legs and breathe in the solitude. 

After a quick trip to her tent to pull on her armor and grab her bow, Mulan goes to the stables and gently pulls Magu from his stall. She mounts her trusted horse and they walk quietly into the trees that surround their camp. They walk straight through to the clearing on the other side and she kicks into a run, lowering herself against his back and grinning at the feel of air rushing past. There’s nowhere to go in particular so they swerve and take random jumps and spin in circles until she’s laughing and Magu slows to a trot, walk, and then stops completely. 

“Do you miss home? When we used to do this all the time?” Mulan strokes a hand down her horse’s neck and gently leans into him. “Me too,” she sighs. “Little Brother probably misses you terribly.” Magu snorts and she laughs. He’s right. Little Brother is glad to be an only child now, probably spoiled rotten by her grandmother. 

She pulls back to face the trees from which they came and pats Magu’s neck affectionately before they start back. It’s been long enough that their Army should be waking up and dressing for breakfast. It’s still quiet, the camp filled with yawns and stretches rather than conversation and the thrumming of feet. It’s why when she hears a snap, she stops and grabs her bow, pulling an arrow swiftly and checking for who has followed her into this thick of trees. 

Down her sight, her eyes land on a familiar face. He’s unarmed, his bow slung over his shoulder. His horse is following him, obviously tired and in need of a long rest and good food. They both could. He doesn’t look any different from the last time she saw him, except perhaps more exhausted and less shocked. Jun. 

Her grip on her bow tightens as his kiss replays in her mind. She remembers his hand on her cheek and his soft lips. They’d pressed against hers with the urgency of a man who thought he’d lost the one he loved. She remembers pulling away from him, shame boiling in her blood as she told him to go. She’d thought that he’d ruined her. That Shang wouldn’t want anything to do with her. Instead, he’d loved her more fiercely. He’d sent Jun away. He’d held Mulan close him. He’d replaced Jun’s misplaced kiss with kisses of his own. Kisses that healed her and filled her with joy. 

“Ping?”

“What is your business here?” she asks, her bow steady and her eyes narrow. 

“Ping, it’s me.” 

“Yes. Hello, Jun. What is your business here?” she asks again, refusing to lower her arrow. If she shot right now, the arrow would drive through the shoulder he needs to draw a weapon. 

“I need to speak with General Li,” he says calmly. She sighs and lowers her weapon. “You look well.” 

“Last time you saw me I was near death,” she says, returning her arrow and swinging her bow to her back. “I would hope my appearance has improved.” 

“Are you alright?” He looks up at her with stars in his eyes. She hasn’t started walking him back to camp yet. They were friends once. Maybe it was all a misunderstanding. Maybe he’s learned better. Maybe. 

“Why did you kiss me?” 

He looks a little taken aback by the abrupt topic but recovers. “I liked you.” He says it plainly without anything to hide behind. “I wasn’t going to kiss you or say anything at all, but then your horse came back without you and I thought I’d lost you.” She isn’t his to lose. She keeps her mouth shut until he’s finished speaking. “I still wasn’t going to but when I went to see you and you were alright… I don’t know. I liked you and it seemed an appropriate time to let you know… I like you still.” 

“You have a wife,” Mulan says almost pleadingly. “You have three children back home.”

“She’s not here.” Her stomach turns, aching in sympathy for a woman she has never and will never meet. “We are alone out here for who knows how long? It’s been four years and we still are far from winning and ending this war. It gets lonely and all we have is each other. My heart called for you. We were friends. We can still be friends.”

“We haven’t been friends in a long time, Jun.”

“Ping—”

“Officer Fa,” she corrects him coldly. He nods, understanding that the conversation is over. “Follow me. You will not be staying here any longer than you have to. Say what you must to General Li but I want you gone.” 

“Yes, Officer,” he says with another bow of his head. 

It’s not that he kissed her without permission. Hell, Shang had kissed her without permission. She hadn’t been hurt. The kiss wasn’t even bad. If she hadn’t been in love with Shang, married to him, sleeping in his arms every night that she could, and tied to him with that invisible red cord maybe she even would have kissed back. But she is in love with Shang. She is married to him. She does sleep in his arms every night. She believes that he is her true love, destined. The kiss that hadn’t hurt her but belonged to the wrong man’s lips only infuriated her. He could have ruined everything with his careless act. And his wife? She doesn’t know that her husband has untoward affections for another. Mulan was never hurt. She’s just never been so guarded and angry at the same time. 

Mulan stops when they reach the stables. “Let him rest,” she says, nodding to his horse. Jun does as she says and steps away from his horse as she dismounts. She starts walking him toward the center of camp feeling as if she has a prisoner behind her. 

“You’re limping!” Jun gasps. 

“What of it?” She would be lying if she said she hardly noticed it, but it had become her new normal. Her limp matches that of her father’s. 

“You’re hurt.”

“I was.” She nods and turns to keep walking. He follows. She doesn’t have to look at him to know that he wants to say more. Just as she can feel his curiosity and worry, he can probably feel her anger and keeps his mouth shut. “Wait here and I’ll get the General,” she says.

Jun stops walking abruptly and stands awkwardly at attention. She almost laughs, a flash of their days as friends when they would goof off about the formalities that must be followed.  
  
Mulan makes her way through the slowly waking camp until she makes it to the mess tent. Shang isn’t there yet so she starts toward his tent. Halfway there, she runs into him. No one else is around them and she thanks her ancestors silently for that. 

“Shang,” she greets him informally. He raises an eyebrow and his eyes dart to make sure no one heard her. She steps closer and lets her fingers catch on his. “Husband…”

“Love,” he answers, suspicion already in his voice. 

“I have news that you might hate to hear especially so early on a day off.” She looks around and grabs his hand before yanking him back to his tent. He grins and kisses her. She laughs, kissing him back before pulling away. “Sorry, not that kind of news. Actual news.”

“What’s wrong?” He’s still holding her against him, their lips only a breath away. This close, she can see the deep brown of his eyes. Any farther and they look black. 

“We have a visitor who needs to speak to you. He’d mentioned that it was urgent on our way into camp.” She bites her lip. He isn’t going to speak or move until she tells him what exactly is going on. “Jun is here.” 

“Excuse me?” Now he moves. He steps away from her and his eyes darken. “Isn’t he supposed to be dead?” She had known that Shang had sent him away, not that he had sent him into harm’s way to be surely killed. Her eyebrows raise but she says nothing. “Bring me to him.”

Mulan walks into the mess tent, trying not to look back at Shang and Jun as they made their way to the war tent. She hears three pairs of feet running after her and braces herself for the questions that are surely about to rain down on her. 

“Ping!” Ling calls before he’s right next to her. She used to be faster than him. “Was that _Jun_?” 

Yao cracks his knuckles before she can answer. “What is that sorry sack doing showing his face around here?”

“What _is_ he doing here?” Po asks a little more gently. “He isn’t joining our ranks is he?” 

“No,” she says quickly. “Yes, it’s Jun. He’s here to talk to Sh- General Li and then he’ll be gone with any luck.” She sighs and takes a seat with her meal. Her brothers sit with her, Ling and Yao on either side of her and Po across. 

“I thought you were over that,” Ling says under his breath with a smirk. Po kicks him under the table. 

“I am,” she lies, shaking her head. “We’re still friends though. Can we stay on topic, please?” 

“I’m going to kill him,” Yao snarls. It’s been four years and he hasn’t changed at all. 

The war tent is one that Mulan still isn’t quite used to no matter how often she’s there to hear the battle plans. In the center of the room there is a table that holds the maps and tiny Army markers. At the head of the table, Shang. Along the edges are the Captains. Lining the inside of the tent in an outer circle are the Officers. 

Yao and Mulan stand close to each other. He’s an Officer, though he works closely with one of the Captains. His unit includes Ling and Po. He isn’t alone with his direction like Mulan is. Mulan is the best archer in this camp. The only reason she isn’t a Captain is her experience. She has her own unit and she trains all of her men. She never asks for her promotions, knowing that it would be inappropriate of Shang to give her one before her time has come.  
  
Today, there is a guest in the war tent. His name is Jun and he is still here. He’s standing back in the outer ring but he’s near to the front where Shang is. In case he needs to answer something, she supposes. A war meeting with Jun’s guest appearance can only be bad news. 

“General Chen and his troops require our immediate assistance,” Shang announces. So much for a free day. The rest of this day will be spent packing up camp so they can leave at first light tomorrow. Shang details what Jun told him of the battle that they’re locked in and losing. Jun corrects one of the markers when Shang invites him to and Mulan watches as Shang brings in their pieces. “We will split to come in from two directions and split their defense. Archers will come in from above here and here.” Mulan nods, taking in her path and what she will relay to her unit later. The entire thing is well thought out and there are only a few questions raised that Shang answers swiftly. 

Before the meeting is over, however, Shang has a final announcement. “Jun will be joining the archers under Ping’s command until we arrive. We should be there in two days time if we leave at dawn tomorrow morning.” 

Mulan’s stomach drops and Jun looks at her. He might be gauging her reaction or simply acknowledging that she’s his direct superior now. She doesn’t know but her eyes flit to Shang’s. He glances at her quickly before dismissing everyone. Everyone moves to leave but she grinds her teeth and glares at Shang. His eyes find hers again. He’s not happy about it either. _Then why?_ She exhales harshly through her nose, her fists clenched, and leaves the war tent. 

She storms back to her own tent, the one she barely uses, and grabs what she needs for a bath. It’ll be her last chance for a few days and she’s going to take it. With her towel and soap, Mulan whisks back out of her tent again and makes her way to the secret lake. 

The small lake is more of a pond really. It’s kept safe by the hills that surround it and the smattering of trees on each hill. It’s not a lot, but it’s enough that no one else has made the trek over to even inspect. She still checks to be sure no one followed her before she tears her clothes away as if they were the ones who had sparked her anger. She throws them into a pile and walks into the water. 

It’s a cool embrace and the tension releases from her muscles. Too bad the water is only skin deep. It tries and fails to reach into her soul to ease her enraged and restless mind. 

It’s one thing for Jun to show up here, at her camp, her home. It’s another for her husband to assign him to her unit. She doesn’t want anything to do with him. She doesn’t want to be near him. She belongs with Shang, not Jun. She and Shang know that, but Jun doesn’t. Jun’s wife doesn’t. 

Mulan lets out an angry noise that sounds more like a growl than anything. She scrubs the soap into her arms. 

She had given him the opportunity to apologize and explain himself. Hadn’t she? He only made it worse. She could have let it go without an apology or explanation if it was all left in the past. But he had made sure to let her know that his feelings are undiminished by time. 

Her ears perk up when she hears footsteps. She sinks lower into the water just in case and looks up toward the sound. It’s just Shang. He pauses when he sees her and continues toward her, pulling off his clothes and letting his hair loose as he gets closer. Angry as she is, she still thinks he’s the most handsome man she’s ever seen and she’s seen too many. 

“Why?” Mulan asks him as he steps into the water. He stops as he looks down at her. He looks pained as he grimaces. 

“It’s my job. And it’s yours.” Instead of walking in, he sits down in the shallow water, his eyes taking her in slowly as if memorizing the moment. She does a spin and when she’s facing him again he’s smiling. “We’ll be there in two days and we’ll hopefully never see him again. Do you know how many people are in China’s Imperial Army? Thousands. Why did they have to send him?” 

“You tried to kill him,” she states, playing with her hair in the water. Shang’s lips pull downward as he nods. 

“I’m not proud of that, but I would do it again.” Shang dips his hand into the water and splashes it toward her gently. By the time the waves reach her, they are a mere ripple. 

“Good.” She swims toward him and he raises an eyebrow at her response. “Because I belong to no one but _you_.”

“I am yours,” he breathes as she crawls on top of him, forcing him to lay back in the mud and tiny pit of water. 

“Mhm.” 

Mulan captures his mouth as she presses against him, her hands guiding his over her body. She bites his lower lip as she runs his hands down her sides. She sits up when he grips her hips and she straddles him, sitting tall before bringing his hands back up to caress her breasts, his fingertips grazing her nipples. She can feel him getting hard beneath her, his cock pressed against her ass. 

“I am _yours_ ,” she says, leaning down again as she pins his hands to the ground on either side of him. Their noses brush, breath mingling for a moment as they stare into the other’s eyes. He’s waiting for her to make her move. He’s willing to be dominated by her in this moment. For her to claim him as hers and her as his.

“I am yours,” he answers before she kisses him hard, their lips parting together under the possessive urgency. Her tongue slips into his mouth and she gives a small moan when he sucks gently and moves his hips so she can feel his arousal against her. 

She always thinks it will take longer to get him to stand at attention, but she’s glad to find how fast he’s ready for her. She reaches back and guides him into her, slamming her hips down immediately to force him in deep. He grunts, eyes closing with his harsh intake of breath. 

With her leg the way it is, she can’t ride him like she used to, but Shang moves his hips under her, thrusting from under. In every other way, she is in control. Their fingers lace together and she squeezes, moaning into his mouth. 

The cold water slaps against Shang’s hips, splashing up around her legs. She swallows his groans and rolls her hips against him. Her hands release him so he can grip her hips and pound harder into her as she bows her head into his neck. She pants, the harsh breaths hitting his collarbone and making his hands tighten. 

“You’re mine,” she breathes, hands curling into his wet hair. “Oh!” He bites her shoulder with his own moan. “Shang!” 

He thrusts all the way into her and she presses her hips down into him to keep him from sliding out. His hard cock fills her completely and, “Oh, yes!” Away from the tents, she can be loud. Away from sleeping soldiers and nearby ears, she can moan loudly for him as her orgasms roll through her. 

She lifts herself again, his hands helping her a little before he pushes back in. He groans. He’s nearing his climax. His lips tremble against her neck as he goes again. This time when he pulls out, he pulls all the way out. She rubs her clit against his dick and feels him spill over onto them both, the ropes of come painting them both with white. 

When he pushes himself up, she locks her legs around his waist and he walks them into the water to wash. She peppers his face with kisses as he goes, relishing the feeling of his arms supporting her weight.


	18. Chapter 18

The camp is packed, everyone is moving into formation as they prepare for their travel. Walking in formation for two or more days is always the same. Everyone starts out exactly where they are meant to be. Units within his Infantry stick together. No one missteps. Conversation flows through the lines and the tight formation becomes more relaxed. Some people switch spots either on purpose or accidentally just because they’re distracted or talking or simply daydreaming. 

Shang wishes he could ride beside Mulan or her by him, but she is still a pretty far way back behind him with her archers. He passes them as she slings her bow over her. 

“Do you know how many men are in China’s Army?” he hears her ask angrily. He tries not to look and keep walking. 

“I don’t know. Thousands, I suppose,” Jun answers. 

“Why did they send you? Of the thousands of men that could have been sent to us, why you?” Shang shouldn’t be eavesdropping but he can’t help it. He wants to hold her hand and stare the man down as he waits for the answer. 

“I volunteered,” Jun says. Shang looks. Jun’s shoulders are squared and Mulan is seething but it’s all in her eyes. There are no other outward signs of her anger, but her eyes might as well be made of fire. “I knew you would be here and like I said when I got here... We’re friends.”

“We are  _ not _ friends.” She turns and mounts her horse before glaring down at Jun. “Into formation, soldier. Now.” Shang looks away and walks to the front. 

When they travel, Shang’s mind usually wanders to one of two places. He either finds himself running through battles that he’s fought or will fight, or he daydreams about what his life could have been like without the war. Today, it’s the latter. 

He imagines himself back at Fan Castle, eating dinner with his family when his mother announces that the matchmaker has found an auspicious match. He tries to keep from rolling his eyes. Though it is tradition and it’s how things are done, he doesn’t care for it. How could a matchmaker know? What were the chances that the love of his life was in that small pool of women that were deemed good enough to even try to be his wife?

In his daydream, his younger sister looks at him with wide eyes. Excited eyes. She’s more excited at the prospect of him marrying than he is. She won’t be in a few years when she’s the one going through it. The whole process is long and drawn out just to ensure that the couple will be good for each other, bringing strong, healthy, male heirs. 

There are the three letters that Shang never wrote and never will write, but in this dream, he writes all of them. The proposal to a woman he’s never met with vows that mean nothing yet. The second, a detailed list of gifts that his mother is sending rather than a real letter. No girl in his matchmaking pool would be unable to read, but it was unlikely she would even read the second letter if she was his true match. Her mother would read it excitedly and his betrothed would sigh and wish this whole process was over. He would never have even seen or had a say in any of the gifts. His mother would go shopping with his sister and convey to him what was purchased so he could write it in his own hand. The third, the most daunting, he would write to this woman that he had never met and welcome her into his family. The wedding letter. The closing sentiments before the wedding, before he will lift the veil and see her face for the first time. 

Two of the three letters he finds important. He doesn’t think the gift letter is a good one. He doesn’t think that the love of his life needs an arsenal of gifts delivered to her if she’s the right one for him. But at least the letters were something he was in control of. It was his handwriting and his signature. 

The rest of the six etiquettes were out of his control and barely in his periphery. Sure, he was involved in the proposal, but the wise women were in charge of the birthday matching which would somehow tell them if they were compatible. His mother was in charge of the betrothal and wedding gifts. The wise women picked the date he would be married. They picked his bride. They picked everything. How wise were they that they had the entire future of the city in their hands? Why did everyone trust them with this responsibility? Why wasn’t he allowed to fall in love? The final etiquette was the ceremony. That involved everyone and they would drink tea. Cheers. 

Except in this daydream, when Shang finally sees the face of his bride, she is Mulan as she looked the first day he saw her. She is wide-eyed and unsure and absolutely gorgeous. 

He imagines his heart swelling with the love he feels for her now as they move into their home within the castle. He imagines her telling him how she isn’t great at pouring tea and him pouring it for them instead when it’s just the two of them. They stand side by side in the kitchen as they cook because Mulan likes to cook with good company. Her laugh fills his days. She lets go of the soft voice she was trained to use and speaks as she does now. 

When their son is born, he paces in the room they usually share. She’s supposed to stay in her room for a month with their son. Everyone tells him that it’s a woman’s place to go in to tend to her, to bring her food and drink and make sure she is well. He doesn’t care to listen to them. He walks into the room and folds himself around her, his heart calming with her in his arms. 

They have two children, a boy and a girl, and both know how to wield a sword, shoot a bow, and ride a horse. They cook together, talk freely, and love unconditionally. It isn’t the way a house would be run according to his unhappy parents. It is silly to let love cloud a successful lineage. He doesn’t think so. His whole heart belongs to Mulan and he will never let society silence her and lock her away from him. 

Everyone has made camp for the night and Shang doesn’t even have a fire started for his dinner. He was too busy with plans and talking to Captains who required further instruction before their arrival at the battle tomorrow. He spots Mulan and her brothers and she raises a hand, waving him over. Usually, they don’t eat together two nights in a row, but he makes the exception on a count of his travel-weary eyes and letting himself give up on building his own fire. 

Mulan passes him a bowl as he approaches and he sits next to her. Yao is on her other side and all of them are quiet as Po and Ling bicker. They’ve been better. Mulan thinks that Po’s reluctance to admit his obvious feelings is causing a rift. Shang has asked to be left out of it, but she tells him everything anyway. He would be lying if he said he wasn’t a little bit invested in this wayward romance now. 

He’s seen them together on breaks, pressed against trees or stumbling into their tent, lips locked and small whimpers shared between them. He’s glad he’s managed to miss the more intimate things that Mulan has walked in on a few times. She always thinks it will lead to the conversation of where their hearts lie but it never does. 

“Does it matter?” Ling hisses. His eyes are narrowed into a glare, jaw set angrily. Shang glances between them, waiting for Po’s answer even though he doesn’t know what the beginning of the fight was. There is no context and judging from their whispers, they don’t realize the show they are putting on.

“No, I don’t care. Why would I?” Po shakes his head dismissively. It was the wrong answer. Ling looks furious. 

“You don’t care?” he asks, setting his food down. Po shakes his head again. “Of course you don’t. I don’t either.” He gets up and everyone watches as he starts storming away. He pauses when he reaches the next small fire where Jun is eating alone. 

“No,” Mulan breathes. Yao makes a choked noise. Po stands up. Shang doesn’t know what they all seem to know is about to happen. 

Ling pulls Jun to him and kisses him deeply, his hands holding onto the front of his shirt before he shoves him back and keeps walking. Jun looks toward their campfire of shocked faces with his own look of surprise. Shang’s jaw drops. 

“Goodnight,” Po says as he makes a quick exit. 

“That did not just happen,” Mulan says slowly. Yao and Shang are still too shocked to move around the campfire, the three of them sitting in a line. Shang watches as Jun grabs his things and puts out his fire, going into his lone tent and disappearing. 

“This…” Yao trails off. 

“Not good,” Shang finishes for him. The three of them nod in agreement and finally, Shang and Yao get up to grab the two bowls of abandoned dinner. 

“He kissed Jun,” Mulan says. 

“He’d better not do it again,” Yao growls. Mulan looks at Shang and he can see where her thoughts are. This might wreck any chance Ling and Po had at making up. It might have burned down the only possibility of them confessing. Even though Jun just happened to be there and it wasn’t his fault Ling had kissed him, he can practically hear Mulan spitting the word _ homewrecker _ . 

“Think he’s okay?” Shang asks tentatively, nodding toward Po’s tent. 

“No.” Yao sighs. “I’m sharing the tent anyway. I’ll let you know if Ling comes back tonight but I don’t know if he will.” Everyone’s quiet before he looks at Mulan with tired eyes. “I know I said I wanted no part but they need to talk.”   
  
“Yeah,” she sighs, dragging a hand down her face, “they do.” 

With the chaos of the tents scattered everywhere, Mulan barely needs to sneak to his tent. They practically walk there together with him a few steps behind her. He watches her duck into his tent and he looks around. No one who is still out by their fires notices. They might not even be able to see past their flames with the veil of night pressing in. Shang slips in after her and falls into bed. 

Mulan pulls at his hair, letting it loose before running her fingers through. He does the same to her before pulling her against him. She makes a small noise of content and presses her face into his chest as her arm drapes across his middle. He draws lazy circles into her back. Stress from the day seems to melt out of both of them and seep into the earth below. He imagines it swirling around the roots of flowers and trees, digging deep into the soil to be remade into something beautiful and new. 

“Tell me,” she sighs, already half-asleep. 

“The worries and sorrows of every man here wash into the ground as they sleep. Nature nourishes it back into something healthy and good, something that can grow.” His eyes are closed. He tries to picture it and watches imaginary flowers bloom. 

“It will be reborn in the morning within each man,” Mulan counters softly. 

“And it will repeat forever,” Shang whispers as he falls asleep. 

She was right, of course. The anxieties were reborn, but Shang hadn’t known what the day would bring. He had known that there would be the clashing of metal on metal. There would be the dull thrumming of his heart in his ears as he fought. Arrows would soar, staffs would swing, swords would plunge, and a battle would be won. And it was. What he hadn’t expected was to find General Chen on the ground, his skin pale, eyes open toward the sky, and his limp hand open, unable to grasp his sword. 

With two fingers, Shang slides the eyelids closed and looks up to try to find someone else. Anyone else. Now would be a good time for his father to step in and announce that General Chen was dead and that he, General Li, would take over for his Infantry. But General Li the elder is dead and has been dead for far too long for these kinds of childish fantasies. 

Shang has to do this. He has to be the one to face over a thousand men who are sweaty and tired and ready for their meals and rest and tell them that General Chen has been killed. He has to announce that he will send word and, until they hear back, he will be taking command of those who had been under Chen’s command. 

His heart hammers in his chest and he takes a deep breath. 

When he had been promoted to Captain before being given the group of untrained recruits from the small outlying villages and small towns, he had felt powerful until he’d met them. It was a few hundred, but he had fought beside more. Training them had been more tedious and frustrating than anything else. He had known he could handle a few hundred. He had been more than ready at that point to be Captain even if he hadn’t known it yet. 

When he was promoted to General and absorbed other units, Captains included, he had been ready. He’d spent years with his own men, working with other Captains and other Generals. He had known since his father had passed that they would replace him with Shang. That had always been the plan. His father practically raised him to replace him. When he was around, that is. 

Right now, staring into the dead face of General Chen, knowing that he’s about to go from ten-thousand men to twenty-five-thousand men has Shang reeling. Not literally, of course. The world is steady and Shang is still, but his nerves are crackling with nervous anticipation. The most a General usually commands is no more than fifteen thousand. He will have fifteen-thousand more than that.

“General Li?” 

Shang stands up and faces the Captain that belongs to General Chen. “Gather your troops. General Chen is dead.” The Captain already knows what this means. He nods, saying something like  _ yes, General, _ to acknowledge Shang as his new General, but Shang’s ears are ringing with his own words. 

He takes a deep breath before walking his way through the battlefield and back towards his men. The archers from both sides are coming down. The two-hundred total archers. They would all belong to Mulan and she doesn’t know it yet. 

Once Shang sees his new Army, his nerves dissipate. He was meant to do this. He calls out his commands effortlessly as he manages his troops. Two messengers are sent to relay that General Chen is dead. Multiple units are sent to clean up the dead to give a proper burial. Captains and Officers alike are ordered to the war tent that is set up just over the hill and across the plain. 

“General Li,” Mulan says with a nod as he pulls up beside her to pass and make his way to the front. 

“You’re ready for this,” he tells her. She furrows her brows in confusion. “Trust me.” She nods and he rides ahead to lead everyone to the temporary camp his troops had set up the night before. 

The tent is big enough to accommodate everyone, but barely. The Captains fit around the table as usual and Shang glances from the table to Mulan. He could have told her earlier, but what good would that have done?  
  
“We have a new Captain,” Shang announces before starting. He clears his throat and looks at her again. “Captain Fa, please join us at the table.” Her eyes widen with shock for a moment before she bows her head and steps forward, taking the empty spot beside him. 

“As everyone knows by now, General Chen is dead. Most units won’t change but I need to know which units have been depleted and which are without command. I am already aware of Archer Captain Cao was killed in this battle as well. Archer Captain Fa will take his ten units under his command.” 

He doesn’t look at Mulan but he can feel her tense beside him. They both know that a jump to commanding twenty to two-hundred is a huge promotion, but he knows she can handle it. No one else is more capable.

There are only six units that need reassignment due to their Captain dying. Ten units have been thinned but it’s an easy solution rearranging them and placing them either together or into already strong units. It doesn’t take as long as he had feared. No one has any objections either which makes everything move along smoothly. 

Shang uses the map to show everyone the path back to where they had been camped two days away. There will be enough room for the added troops, but it’s good that he had everyone mostly pack up before leaving because there will have to be rearranging to accommodate the influx. The only things that had been left there were some of the built structures like the stables. Their cook had stayed behind with two units. They will all be surprised at the massive amount of men Shang leads back to camp.   
He isn’t even bringing back his entire fleet. Five units of ten are staying back, remaining at the station they were originally with General Chen. The area is still in need of protection. One of Mulan’s archery units is among those staying back. And one horse will remain with them for messages to be sent or in case of an emergency much like how Jun was sent to them. Jun’s horse will remain. 

When the tent empties out, everyone off to go tell their units the news and finish with the work for the day, Shang lets out a breath. 

“You can do this,” Mulan says, her hand on the tent flap. He smiles and nods, his heart softening again just from being alone with her. 

“You can too, Captain.” 

She beams and puffs out her chest the way she had told him she once thought was the manliest. It’s attractive right now, her confidence radiating. “I’ll see you later,” she promises and ducks out of the tent. 


	19. Chapter 19

Mulan had heard from Yao that Po had been injured during the fight. “Not bad,” he’d promised her when she almost ran to find him, “but he got hit.” Po had managed to walk to his tent unsteadily with the help of Yao before he’d collapsed, asleep. Their doctor had cleaned up the blood from the head wound and wrapped it before saying he would be fine. 

After talking to her troops, Mulan makes her way to Yao and Po’s tent with a few buns for dinner. When she steps inside, any words that she had been about to utter die in her throat. Ling is sitting with Po for the first time in days. It’s an intimate scene that has even Yao silenced. 

Ling is on his knees beside Po, his hand resting against Po’s cheek, thumb stroking slowly. His face is sad as he gazes upon him. His eyes are red from tears that have since been wiped away. And Po sleeps, eyes shut, unaware of the gentle caress from the one he loves. 

Mulan sits down beside Yao and hands him his food. He nods silently in appreciation and takes a bite. Neither of them says a word, worried to disrupt the healing. They do look away to give Ling privacy, facing each other instead and having unspoken conversations about what they are both witnessing. 

It’s short-lived. Po stirs and Ling jumps away from him. Mulan reaches out to him but Ling shakes his head and walks out of the tent just as Po opens his eyes. Mulan sighs and Yao goes after Ling with a bun and probably a lecture. 

“Hey,” Mulan says softly as she moves to sit beside him. Po sits up slowly and takes the food she offers him. “How are you feeling?”

“Like I’ve been hit in the head with a sword,” Po answers in a groan. He lifts his hand to the cheek that Ling had just been stroking but he shakes his head and thanks her for the food instead of asking after Ling. 

“I’m pretty sure you _were_ hit in the head with a sword,” she laughs. He smiles back. 

“How long was I out?”

“Long enough for me to become a Bow Captain,” she says with a small smile and a slight shrug. 

“So two years?”

“Try two hours.” 

“Congratulations, brother,” he says and she bows her head. She wants to tell him that Ling was by his side for those two hours, that Ling had been the one to find him when he fell. It’s not the right time. He needs to rest and maybe he knows. Maybe he felt him by his side. 

“Do you ever wish we were back at our training camp?” Mulan asks as Po eats. He considers it, chewing slowly. 

“Do you?” It’s not an answer but maybe he needs more time to think about it. 

“Sometimes. We were always in one place and there weren’t so many of us. I do like feeling like I’m part of something though. I’m able to protect China now. I couldn’t do that from camp.” It was safer at training. No one was dying. They hadn’t seen the enemy yet. 

“I wish I had never been recruited,” Po says softly. “I would be married now and raising my children and…” His eyes drift to the entryway. Ling. Ling would be here and Po never would have kissed him or made love to him. They wouldn’t be fighting. They’d practically be in different worlds. 

“But we wouldn’t be brothers,” Mulan offers though his pain is palpable. “He didn’t mean it.”

“Yes. He did.” He doesn’t see what she does. He sees the man he’s been in love with since he was a teenager kissing another man after telling him he couldn’t care less. He doesn’t see how hopelessly in love they both are. 

“He loves you.”

“He doesn’t,” Po insists.

“He does. If you would just talk—”

“I’m tired,” he says abruptly, cutting her off. “Thank you for dinner. Goodnight, Ping.” 

Mulan nods and stands, leaving him to rest. She feels like she’s talking to a brick wall every time she attempts this. If not a wall, a door that keeps getting slammed shut in her face. Neither of them will listen to her. She’s inclined to give up. But then she thinks of Shang. If they had only kissed and she had never been willing to open up to him, to bare herself to him figuratively and literally, he would not be her husband. It would not be his tent she was walking to right now. She wouldn’t feel the kind of joy she does every morning when she wakes up beside him because she wouldn’t be waking up beside him. She can’t give up on them.

The journey back to camp is simple and fast. It’s the same way they came so there’s no real need to think about the steps that are taken. Ling walks beside Mulan and Magu, talking and playing random games that he must have played as a child. Yao is with his unit, Po close to him as they probably do the same thing. It breaks her heart that they can’t walk as four anymore but she doesn’t want to fight about it while they are all half-vigilant of enemies and random bandits that could but never do appear. 

Over the two day trek, Mulan managed to send Jun on pointless runs just to keep him far away from her. She sent him ahead to scout out the area they were walking into. She sent him back in the line to relay a message to another Captain. It was his job when they made camp to collect the rocks and sticks to build fires. She wanted Jun far from her and far from Ling while she waited for Ling and Po’s fight to smooth over. 

It’s different this time though. Jun isn’t sitting alone. He’s sitting with the other archers who used to be her friends too. She hasn’t seen them since Shang had packed up his crew four years ago and brought them all far from General Chen. They all trained her and now she’s their Captain. She outranks every single one of her friends when she had started as the weakest. 

When she emerges from her tent after they made it back to camp, she sees her old archer friends waving her over. She could always decline, but she follows what she had learned from Shang. He was always a good and fair Captain. He sat with different people almost every night if he was invited. Part of that had been the secret relationship, but a big part of it had been keeping morale high. She’s a Captain now and her archers, her old friends, want her to sit with him. 

“Ping?” Ling asks as she starts walking past their fire. 

“Not tonight,” she says with a half frown. She pats him on the shoulder and goes to the group of archers that are sharing tea. She sits down and accepts a cup from Ren. “Evening, gentlemen,” she says. 

“Who knew that our Ping would become a Captain?” Ba says proudly. She smiles as they congratulate her. “You must have been working hard these years.”

“Harder than you girls,” she says and they all laugh. “Can’t wait to whip you all into shape.” She hates using the term  _ girls _ , but it’s something that the men do. Yao does it often and she finds herself pulling phrases straight from his mouth to connect with other men. 

With the influx of men and the lack of actual attack happening in their area, Shang has the next few weeks carved out for everyone to get used to their new climate, Captains, units, and immediate area. The men coming in from General Chen’s infantry will probably end up with the chills just as Mulan’s group had when they had first arrived. Everyone will have time to train their new units and take them out for small hunting excursions or target practice as well as just order their men around to help clean up camp or make supply runs. She’s looking forward to putting Jun on latrine duty. It’s petty, but if she has to be in close quarters with him, he might as well suffer for it. 

“We never asked you before,” Ren says as their rice finishes cooking, “why has everyone heard of Fa Zhou but not his son?” 

“We’re simple farmers. There really isn’t anything to brag about.” Mulan shrugs and tries not to laugh nervously. “I didn’t go to school, but I had a tutor that would come by.” That’s how it was for women. Her tutor had been a friend of the family. They weren’t rich enough to afford more than that, but the only daughter of a decorated war hero with an education was sure to find a good match. How wrong they had been. “There wasn’t a school close enough and I had duties on the farm.” 

This story had been perfected with Shang when she had asked what she was supposed to say without coming off as cold and distant. He’d told her to stick as close to the truth as possible so it wasn’t lying. They’d decided that embellishing the fact that the school was too far would explain why she hadn’t attended as a boy. The story worked for a variety of questions and it usually just made people think they were connecting dots and understanding her rather than being duped. 

The conversation flows and Mulan mostly listens, avoiding Jun’s unwavering gaze. He looks like a lost puppy dog. It’s at the end of dinner when Mulan is about to get up and check in on her brothers and hope that their dinner went smoothly when she hears just how not smooth dinner actually went. 

“Goodnight!” Ling shouts. Mulan’s heart sinks and she looks over her shoulder. He walks toward her as Yao’s head falls to his hands. “Evening, brother,” Ling greets her. 

“Are you alright?” 

“No,” Ling huffs. Mulan stands and rests a hand on his shoulder. She knows why he’s really here and she wants to steer him away before he makes everything worse. 

“Need to talk?” Jun asks. Ling nods. Too late. Mulan’s hand falls from his shoulder and she glares at Jun. Po is staring at the three of them, his heart in his eyes. She can see the shattered pieces as she watches Ling take Jun’s hand and they walk away from the fire. 

“Captain?” Xiu asks as she watches Ling just beyond the fire with Jun. They talk for what must be two words before their lips are crashing against each other. 

“Thank you for dinner, gentlemen. The cooks will be ready with the mess tent before morning. I hope you enjoy.” She bows her head and they all bid her a goodnight. 

Her mind is filled with ways she can try to get Ling’s tongue out of Jun’s mouth and the two far from each other until she can get Po and Ling to make up as she walks to Shang’s tent. 

Mulan is walking with Yao through camp when she spots Jun. Her blood boils every time she sees him. Over the past week, he has done nothing but break Po’s heart down until it’s been crushed into a fine powder. Po has been there to see every kiss, handhold, necking, and secretive whisper where the lips brush the other’s jaw and ear. 

“Jun!” Mulan barks. Yao stops walking with her and waits. “Which of your men is well?” she asks Yao quietly as Jun approaches. 

“Feng is well enough to hunt.” 

“Yes, Captain?” Jun asks, stopping in front of her. He still looks like a puppy, his eyes wide and hopeful. She may be shorter, but she feels tall in front of him. 

“You’re going hunting with Feng. Grab your bow and meet him at the stables.” 

“I was about to go help Ling with—”

“Is Ling your commanding Captain?” Mulan snaps. 

“No, sir,” Jun says, standing straighter. 

“Get ready for your hunt. I don’t want to hear another word.” Jun nods and steps away, going to his tent to grab his things. “I guess we should find Feng,” she sighs, her shoulders drooping a little. 

“Yes, Captain,” Yao says with a smirk. She punches him and they both laugh as they go off to find Feng. 

Mulan is stomping her way back to Shang wherever her husband may be at the moment. It’s her fault as much as his that the blood hasn’t come and that she’s absurdly nauseous again. Third time. She can’t do this again. She lets the anger take over because if she lets it melt away, she’d be crying. 

There’s a sound on the other side of the tree that she’s approaching. She honestly doesn’t care but she is growing more nauseas. The smell from someone’s breakfast drifts over and she doubles over at the base of the tree, retching on the spot and cursing her and her husband’s fertility. 

“Ping!” Ling steps away from her before crouching beside her. She sits up and spits to get the taste out of her mouth. “Are you alright?”  
  
“Sick,” she says, trying to breathe through her nose. “What were you—?” Her eyes land on Jun behind Ling. She glares at Ling. “I told you to stay away from him!” she snaps though she doesn’t mean to. 

“Whoa.” Ling puts his hands up in surrender. She doesn’t believe him. 

“Of all the men here and you choose  _ Jun _ ?” She wipes her mouth on the back of her hand before she gets to her feet. “Where is General Li?”

Jun looks alarmed, as if she’s going to get him killed for kissing Ling. “Last I saw, he was in the war tent.” His own glare says the same thing he’s been saying for years:  _ I thought you were over that. _

“Where’s Po?” she asks before turning to find Po walking toward them. 

“There,” Ling says on a breath like he can’t stand being this close to him anymore. 

“Ping?” 

“I’m sick. Leave me.” She waves off Po and Ling before she pushes past Jun and makes her way to the war tent to tell her husband that she’s with child. Again. 

Mulan is fed up. She’s fed up with not being able to cuddle with her husband at a small campfire outside of his tent during the longest night. She’s fed up with binding herself every damn day. She’s done with whatever is happening with Ling and Po. She’s beyond angry with both of them. Po, for keeping his mouth shut and maybe ruining what could be a beautiful relationship. Ling, for trying to make Po jealous or move on maybe with someone as detestable as Jun. 

She’s pouting and she knows it. She wraps her arms around her middle, knowing she will never carry this child long enough to feel a kick. She sits alone at her own fire outside of the tent that she doesn’t sleep in because she doesn’t want to eat with anyone. She managed to keep her plain rice dinner down, but there’s no point trying to eat much of anything else unless she wants to lose progress. 

Shang is eating with her brothers in the mess tent. She will probably wait another hour yet before she makes her way to his tent for the night. For now, she’s content to stare into the flames and pretend she’s back home on her farm. She used to do this when she was told she was being unladylike. She would clamp her mouth shut and cross her arms as she sat in front of the hearth, refusing to pour tea or take dinner or practice anything for her matchmaking ceremony.

“Captain?” Jun says, snapping her back to the present. She looks up at him. “Can we talk?”

“Sit,” she allows. He takes a seat opposite her and warms his hands near the flames for a moment. She doesn’t say anything. 

“Why does it make you so mad to see Ling and I together?” Jun finally asks. She raises her eyebrows and cocks her head to the side. “I just mean… It looks like you might regret your decision. If you want me back, I’ll stop everything with Ling.”

“Excuse me?” 

“I know you can’t have me now because you’re my Captain, but I won’t kiss anyone else if I know I’ve won your heart.” He says it sincerely as if he actually believes he has a chance at winning her over. 

“I couldn’t care less who you kiss, Jun,” she says tiredly. “So long as it isn’t me and it isn’t Ling.” The two other people she doesn’t want him kissing go unnamed only because they probably aren’t even on his radar. Neither Shang nor Po would never kiss Jun back even if he did go there. And Shang is the General. He’s attractive and she’s caught more than one man taking in Shang’s form when they train, but none can make a move toward him. He’s reserved for her and even that is illegal on multiple levels. 

Jun is quiet and she thinks the conversation is over, but she’s wrong. “You’re in love with Ling,” he says, shock in his eyes as he looks up at her from the spot on the floor he had been staring at. 

“What?” she almost screams. 

“You’re in love with Ling. That’s why this whole thing has been painful for you and why you’ve been trying to stop us being together,” he says. 

“Ugh, no,” she says, shaking her head. “He is my  _ brother _ .” She looks away from Jun and back into the fire. 

“I would wait a thousand lifetimes for you, Ping.” When she glares at him and sits up he quickly corrects himself, “Captain.” 

“You’re dismissed, Jun,” she says coldly. He sighs and stands before bowing and walking away, out into the dark and probably back to the mess tent. 


	20. Chapter 20

**Year Six**

The heat of Summer has everyone running to the lakes. Everyone except for Mulan, so Shang stays behind too. There’s rarely any battles, even small ones, in Summer. The heat keeps everyone out of the sunlight and lethargic enough to keep out of trouble. The real trouble is always Winter. Sometimes, they run into thieves or enemies during the Autumn as they forage for their last scraps of food before Winter, but once the last leaf falls, all is fair game. 

The Emperor devised a plan a year ago to start attacking the enemy’s livestock and other animals during the Summer. Shang has his Army divided up for scouting and sends out some men on missions every once in awhile to stealthily attack and hope there will be no loss of life. There hasn’t been so far. Besides the animals that is. While Mulan sent Jun out to the farthest post, it hasn’t fixed his desires for her affections but it has been quite effective in keeping Ling in line. 

“Shang?” Mulan asks behind him, snapping him out of his thoughts. He wrings out a pair of her pants that he’s in the middle of washing in his basin instead of at the lake and looks over his shoulder at her. They’re both shirtless right now, a small refuge from the heat, though she leaves her binding on. It’s only midday. If they’re needed, a shirt is within reach and much quicker to put on than rewrapping her bindings. 

“Ping?” he answers, poking fun at the fact that she’s still bound and her hair is still pulled up into her Captain’s knot. She rolls her eyes even as she smiles. 

“I have a question,” she states, sitting up from where she had been propped up on one elbow. Shang nods and wrings the fabric out again, water dripping back into the basin. “When you thought I was Fa Ping…” 

“Mhmm…” It feels like a long time ago that Mulan had been someone else, hiding herself from him. It feels like a blink of an eye that he took six years ago. 

“You became infatuated before you knew the truth.” She plays with the hem of her pants that she’s still wearing. He puts down the damp-but-not-wet shirt and turns to face her fully as he nods again. “So you like men as well?” 

“We’re all human,” he answers vaguely. He’d only ever kissed one other boy and that was even longer ago, back at Fan Castle when his friend, Dang, had asked how one was supposed to kiss their wife when they married and the two had decided to stop their sword play in favor of practicing. He’s found both men and women equally attractive, though he’s never wanted to admit to liking men. It was alright for the Emperor. It was less fine for a man who had it drilled into him that he was to be a husband to a wife and bring heirs to the Li family while being an important and decorated member of the Imperial Army. There was simply no room for dalliances with men in the stifling world he’d grown up in. “Why?”

“Would you ever make love to me as if I were a man?” she asks, falling back onto his bed again and staring up at the top of the tent. 

“I could try,” Shang says with a small smile, his heart soft as he gazes upon her. 

“Right now?” she asks, refusing to move from the spot where she lies. 

Shang walks over to her and brings her to her feet. She’s tiny next to him, her head only coming up to his shoulders. He traces her jaw with his fingertip and outlines her lips which part at his touch. He replaces his fingers with his mouth, kissing her tenderly. She reaches up, her fingers sliding into his hair and pulling him against her. His arms wind around her thin frame, fitting her perfectly against him.  
  
He can feel himself growing harder against her as his tongue slips into her mouth. She sucks before grazing her teeth against his lip and releasing him to kiss him deeply again. He bites her lip in return before turning her around in his arms and holding her against him, her back against his chest as he dips his face into the crook of her neck to press kisses there. She lets out a blissful sigh and he sucks her neck, his hands pulling her hips back so his stiff dick is pressed between against her ass. 

Mulan lets out a soft noise somewhere between a whimper and a sigh when he drags his tongue up her neck and bites her earlobe. She turns her face and with her fingers gently resting on his jaw, she kisses him over her shoulder. One of his hands caresses her toned abs and ascends, smoothing over her binding and up her turned neck and jaw. She sucks on his lip before taking his fingers into her mouth so he can go back to necking her. 

She slides her pants down her legs and kicks them to the side, discarding them with the shirts on the floor before she reaches back and pulls at Shang’s pants. They fall around his ankles and he steps out of them as Mulan lies down on her side. Shang follows her down, his fingers drenched with her spit. 

“Ready?” he asks. 

In lieu of an answer, Mulan takes his hand and guides it to her ass. His finger slides between her cheeks and he rubs the spit over her. He pushes his finger into her and she gasps, tensing for a moment before relaxing in his arms again. She lets out a slow breath and he pushes in further. 

Her head is pressed back against his chest and his lips are pressed against the top of her head, his arm the only thing between them. Her arm is reached back so she can grip his thigh. He pulls his finger out and spits into his hand before returning it again and nuzzling back into her as he reenters her slowly. 

It’s easier the second time and he can go deeper. He knows why she wants this and it makes sense. He doesn’t know why neither of them really thought of this before, but if this is something she ends up enjoying, this is a way for them to still have sex without the possibility of conceiving more children she will inevitably lose. It’s been hard on both of them. He hopes this works. 

He keeps a good rhythm with adding more spit to make sure his finger is wet enough not to hurt her and he’s able to pick up speed a little. Some of his own precum has wet her upper thigh where he’s pressed to her, but neither wipe it away. 

As he stretches her carefully, her hand moves from his thigh to his dick and she takes hold of it, letting her hand slide along the shaft. He sucks in a breath at the touch but keeps his hand moving. Her breath is coming quicker the more relaxed into his hand she becomes. 

Her hand pumps at the same speed as his which makes his hand work faster. He moans and she answers with his name dripping from her lips. 

Shang takes his hand and spits into it again, rubbing the head of his dick that she’s still holding. She lets go so he can guide just the tip into her. It’s tight and hot and he’s already close to the edge thanks to her handiwork. 

Their legs are tangled together and Shang’s head dips into Mulan’s neck where he kisses and sucks. Their fingers twine together on her hip as he gently pushes in. She lets out a high, “Oh!”, her hand tightening on his. He freezes. She feels and sounds so good. 

“Mulan,” he groans. He pulls out a little and slides in again, a little further, pushing himself toward the climax that she’s seemingly already at, her whimpers and moans music in his ears. On the third thrust, he comes, spilling into her and moaning so loudly he has to quiet himself by biting her shoulder lightly. 

When he’s finished and the only sounds left are of both of their heavy breaths, Mulan turns her face and kisses him over her shoulder. It lingers a little, but the urgency is gone, replaced with satisfied contentment. He pulls out slowly and watches some of his come drip onto her thigh. 

He grabs a rag from the basin he had been doing their laundry in and uses it to clean their hands and her legs before passing her a pair of pants. 

“These are not mine,” she says as she pulls them on. He watches as she stands up and the pants cover her feet. “Though if I’m wearing the General’s pants, am I now the General?”  
  
“It’s a tough job. I need a vacation,” he jokes, laying back with his arms behind his head. 

“Take that vacation. I will win this war for you.” She pecks the tip of his nose with her own before taking his pants off and throwing them at him, stooping to grab her own. He doesn’t want to get dressed, even half-dressed, so he doesn’t. He stays where he is, stretched out and naked midday. 

“Come here,” he says. She grins and cuddles against him, resting her head on his shoulder. He sighs and closes his eyes, laundry forgotten as afternoon marital bliss washes over him like a ray of sunlight. 

“General!” A distant voice calls. They’re approaching. He can hear their footsteps. Mulan is already up, grabbing her shirt and preparing to make her exit out the back. 

“I love you,” Shang whispers, pulling on his own clothes. 

“I love you too,” she whispers back, kissing him once more.

“General!” The voice announces again outside the tent and Mulan is gone. 

Sending Mulan away to check on her units is always hard. They’re spread out over the region and she’ll have Magu and Po with her, but she will be gone for two weeks. She’s a great Captain and she never complains about her duties, but he can tell that parting is just as much a wound in her heart as it is in his. They stand in his tent, their foreheads pressed together, her arms looped around his shoulders, and their eyes closed as they say goodbye. 

“I will return to you,” she promises quietly. She opens her eyes so he does too. They’re dark and the gleam is all he can see, his vision filled with the brown color with the small light from his candle lighting it. 

“I would be with you if I could,” he answers as he does every time. It’s what they say every time. And every time she returns back safely so he will keep saying it to keep her coming back safe. Tradition and superstition are sometimes one in the same. 

“My love.” One of her hands moves to stroke the side of his face and he leans into the touch. 

“My wife,” he breathes, holding her closer. She tilts his face so she can kiss him before she steps out of his arms and out of the tent. 

Shang watches from his tent as she makes her way to the stables. He stays rooted there, watching her saddle up Magu and greet Po. He doesn’t move until they ride off, becoming part of the early morning darkness. He lets out a breath and goes back into his tent to finish dressing for the day. 

He takes a walk around the camp, knowing breakfast won’t be ready for a few hours yet and that he has the dew-dropped morning to himself. There’s little else to do but walk and focus on the gentle sound of grass and dirt beneath his feet. 

There had been mornings back at Fan Castle where he had done this. He would wake from nightmares from the fights he had recently seen or worrying over his father’s death. On those mornings, he would calm himself with the crisp morning air and the sound of his feet on the wooden walkways that spiraled through and around the castle. He would glance up at the guards and wonder if they were tired from standing watch all night. Sometimes, one of his sisters would join him. Yue would often be the one to hear him leave and follow him out. 

“What did you dream about?” she would ask and he would silently will her to stop with her questions. 

“War.”

“I dreamed of marriage.” Her fantasies would include princes from far off lands, a guard of the royal palace, or a high-ranking soldier. Their dreams were different and fitting. And both came true. 

When Shang sits down to breakfast, he has three men who come to sit with him. Xiu, Biao, and Tong are mostly only his friends. They get along with Mulan— well, Ping— but Shang tries to keep the interactions they have with him and Mulan short. Biao and Tong aren’t bound to notice anything, but Xiu has known Shang since they were children. They had trained together every day for years. 

When Shang had been promoted to General and had taken on many more men and been given more Captains, Xiu was among them. They had hugged after years of separation and Shang finally had his friend back. Time had done little to change Xiu and their friendship was just as unharmed. 

“How is your family?” Shang had asked when their hug had ended. “My sister?”

“Yue is wonderful. You actually gained another niece!” 

“So, she has her hands full with your barbarian children,” Shang had joked. “Congratulations.”

“What’s this?” Xiu had lifted Shang’s arm where he wore the bracelet of Mulan’s hair. “Did I miss a wedding? Are congratulations in order?” 

“No. It’s nothing.” He had rushed to pull his sleeve down and keep it hidden and safe. 

“Ever the romantic. I never understood why you wanted love over marriage. It’s that thing isn’t it? Your fanciful ideas of love? Never grew out of it, I see.” No, nothing had changed. "It can come later like it did for Liling and I. You can get married and fall in love with your wife, you know." But that's not what happened for Shang. 

Biao and Tong were both new friends who were also Captains. Biao and Tong had also joined his infantry when he had become General. 

Biao was married with four children back at home. His eldest was nine when he had left home and already starry-eyed at the prospect of her matching ceremony. Six years later and she’s only a year away from the beginning of it all. Biao had assumed that Shang was married too. He had said that it was in the way Shang spoke. The way Shang lived apparently made it obvious that he had someone who owned his heart, someone he was fighting to stay alive for. 

Tong was a poor man who felt it was his purpose to be here. Everyone else in his family had died and he had never found a wife. He had said that he was close to death, starving in the streets, when he had found his way into the Army. Now a Captain, he doesn’t take anything for granted and uses the same discipline that kept him alive then to keep him and his troops alive now. He’s strict and serious when he’s working, but he enjoys the laughter that Xiu brings. 

They make a good group, balancing each other out. Mulan has met them all and works with them more personally than Shang does, but he’s still afraid of Xiu reading through his lies and Mulan’s disguise. 

“Anyone else see the seamstress leaving his tent this morning?” Xiu asks before he’s even taken his first bite of breakfast. 

“Leave her be,” Shang laughs. Gossip has become the new favorite game. No one likes to talk about their lives back home anymore unless they’re feeling particularly homesick and no one wants to talk about the end of the war. It’s a day that seems like it will never come. Not in their lifetime.

“Does her mother know?” Biao asks. There are three seamstresses. They are all sisters and their mother is with them, too old to sew, but wise and always there to look out for her daughters. All three of the girls sneak into the camp after their mother falls asleep and sneak back in the early morning. 

“No way,” Tong says, shaking his head seriously. “I did hear Po leave awfully early this morning.”

“He went with Ping on that mission,” Biao says dismissively. “Anyway, anyone with eyes knows that Po is in love with Ling.”

“And Ling with Po. But they won’t admit it,” Shang adds. 

“Think Ping likes anyone?” Tong asks. Shang almost chokes, but he disguises it as needing water and takes a sip. 

“Captain Hong? They spend some time together.” 

“No,” Shang shakes his head. “Hong is just his brother’s Captain. Yao serves directly under Hong. Of course, he would be over there.” 

“Right,” Xiu says with a mischievous smile. “He can’t like Hong anyway. Not when he’s clearly head over heals for the General.” 

This time Shang does choke. Biao and Tong both laugh and Shang looks at Xiu wondering if it’s a joke or he knows something. “What?!” 

“You heard me.”

“It’s true. Ping does seem to…” Tong trails off.

“Get lost gazing at Shang?” Biao supplies.

“That’s it!” Tong says, snapping as if that had been on the tip of his tongue. Everyone laughs and Shang shakes his head, his cheeks burning. He hopes the blush doesn’t shine through his skin. 

“We’re friends,” Shang says.

“You think he’s cute too, don’t you?” Xiu asks. 

“Can we move on, please?” Shang would be surprised if the tent didn’t light on fire with how hot he’s burning right now. 

“Fine, fine…”   
  
They do, discussing who likes who and taking informal bets on who is going to sleep together next. Shang doesn’t join the bet, but he joins the conversations, eager to keep the names away from his own and Ping. 


	21. Chapter 21

Mulan and Po don’t bother setting up their tents. They’ll just have to pack up again in the morning. Instead, they stretch out near their campfire, head to head as they gaze up at the stars. Every other day they will reach another camp. It’s just quick check-ins to make sure they all have food, they haven’t been in any skirmishes, if they’ve seen the enemy, and fix any problems that need arise. She doesn’t expect much to have happened. If all goes according to plan, she’ll spend a day at each camp, there will be no problems to speak of, and she can be back home in two weeks. 

Home. Home isn’t a place and it hasn’t been for years. Her home can’t be that place she grew up with the family she’d abandoned to save. Home changed from a farm in a far off place to nowhere to the arms of the man she loves. 

“Do you ever think about how things were?” Po asks softly. His voice is always soft. His soul is gentle. More gentle than her grandmother or anyone else Mulan has ever met. 

“What do you mean?” 

“When we met, everyone was so mean to you…” He sounds apologetic even though the years of being brothers has long since washed away any wrong she may have felt back then. 

“It happened. I don’t dwell on it.” She yawns and closes her eyes. 

“May I ask you a question?” He asks as if he hasn’t been and is not currently doing just that. She smiles a little in the dark. 

“You may.” 

“Are you still in love with General Li?” 

“If I confess my true feelings for General Li once and for all to you right now, would you confess to Ling how you feel about him?” She knows the answer which is why she’s safe. Po knows she’s in love with Shang. He doesn’t need to hear it again. And she knows that Po is still in love with Ling. She doesn’t need to hear it. She just needs them to resolve the tension. 

“Definitely not,” Po says and she shakes her head. 

“Then definitely not.” She stretches and yawns silently again. “Goodnight, Po.”

“Goodnight, Ping.” 

Days later and they’re almost to the camp that Mulan least wants to visit. The last two camps were uneventful as expected. They all had enough food, no one was sick, they had seen nothing of import, and they all seemed high in morale. The next camp is where Jun is stationed with some of his friends and other soldiers. They should be there soon. 

“What will my parents think when I come home from this?” Po asks with a small chuckle. He rides his horse alongside hers and occasionally bursts out with something that he’s been daydreaming about during their shared silences. Mulan glances at him, wondering if he’ll share. When he meets her eye, he does. “My mother will try to fatten me up again. She won’t even care about anything else. My father will probably be proud that I survived and still manage to ask and be disappointed when he finds out I didn’t get many promotions.” 

“Would he really?” She shakes her head, unable to fathom the relationships Po has with his parents and how vastly they differ from her own. 

“Of course. What about your parents?” It’s an innocent question that she thinks about more often than she would like to. 

“I don’t know,” she says honestly after a moment. “They probably won’t get past the news that I lived past day one. If they make it that far, my mother will probably cry. I hope my father will be proud, but our last conversation was anything but cordial.” 

They have never really talked about what they expected after the war. She had always steered clear of talking about her family in the beginning, and in the beginning was the only time that anyone wanted to talk about the possibility of going home. 

“What will you do after that?” she asks tentatively, knowing he won’t get mad but worried it could still upset him. He doesn’t seem bothered. 

“I’d like to have a small cottage somewhere. I could have a garden of herbs and maybe another for flowers if I could make them grow. My mother always had flowers and herbs in her garden. I could have chickens like Ling had growing up and we—” He stops short and his smile falls briefly. Mulan doesn’t say anything. There’s nothing to say. “Maybe I could live close to you three. I have no other siblings.” 

“I would love that.” 

She imagines never telling her brothers the truth. They would believe Shang and Ping were gay lovers, living together as husbands. They would always call her Ping. She would never wear a dress or hair ornaments ever again. She would never be able to have the children she so desperately wants to have with Shang unless she went away on a vacation for her pregnancy and came back claiming adoption. 

Maybe six years is too long to keep a secret this large from three people she holds so close to her heart. She can’t imagine ever telling them. How would they take the news? They would feel betrayed. She considers telling Po, just to test his reaction and calculate how awful it would be if she told Ling and Yao but she stomps that idea out faster than a spreading fire. 

She can see the camp in the distance and sighs. “Can we share a tent tonight?” she asks. 

“Don’t you usually sleep outside?” Po asks. Even though she’s had her own tent for years, her brothers know that her tent is usually empty. They remember that she never slept in the tent with them, even in Winter, unless she was sick or injured. They’re all under the impression that she still sleeps beneath the stars and has been for six years. 

“I don’t want to tonight and I don’t want to be alone.” She knows she will be safe from anyone’s advances with Po there to protect her. She’ll have to sleep with her binding on, but she hadn’t planned on taking it off for this trip at all anyway. 

“Jun?” Po asks. 

“Jun,” she confirms flatly. Po nods and doesn’t say another word. 

When they arrive, Mulan sends Po to set up their tent while she sets up a small area for her to talk to the Officers and gather their reports and answer their needs. If this were Shang’s trip, he would have a traveling War Tent and set up the entire thing just for a short conversation and it would be packed up the following day before his departure. She’s only a Captain checking in on her men. She has no need for the entire tent. She can make do with some tea and a stick to draw in the dirt. 

Ren and Ba come over to where she’s setting up an area away from the camp. They greet her with grins and pats on the back like the old friends they are. Ba will put on his Officer demeanor later for the meeting, but right now, they’re just Ba and Ping. 

“You’re early!” 

“I beg your pardon!” She laughs. 

“If you hadn’t been in such a rush to see us, we could have had a feast prepared!” Ren jokes. “We weren’t expecting you for another few days at least,” he adds more seriously.  
  
“No feast is needed. The last group was quick. Hopefully this will be too and then I can go back to being far away from your ugly faces.” They laugh and start taking the saddle away from Magu while Mulan rests, sitting on the ground and stretching. 

“Do you need anything?” Ba asks. He still isn’t completely comfortable seeing Mulan limp when she walks. He pretends it doesn’t. He’s seen others with injuries that leave scars and impairments, but Mulan supposes he sees it differently because they’re friends. Once upon a time, she had been the small, weak archer that Ba, Jun, Ren, and all of their friends all wanted to protect. Now she’s strong, but she limps. She’s still small, but she’s confident in her abilities now and stands taller, sits higher, holds her chin up. She doesn’t need their veil of protection anymore. 

“Just the Officers and their reports,” she sighs. “Get this out of the way while the sun is still sitting in the sky.” Ba nods and walks away with Ren who has Magu by the reins and will lead him back to the stables for water and fresh food. 

Mulan makes tea over the small fire she built upon her arrival. By the time she has it ready, Ba has his group of Officers with him. They gather around and take some tea. They tell her about the fine hunts, the splendid weather, the lack of illness, and the victories against small-time bandits. 

“We have seen the enemy, but not fought them. It would have been needless. We have eyes on the base of the Mountain, just by Hulau Pass.” 

Mulan watches as they draw out the mountain in the dirt, marking where they’ve spotted enemy forces briefly. They’re getting closer. She memorizes it and stores it, ready to go back to Shang to tell him everything. She can feel the fear and excitement mixing inside of her. They’re getting closer and there will be a battle, a big one. 

“Remain here and keep your eyes out for any more sightings. If numbers start increasing or they are in the area more often, send Ren immediately with the news and retreat to Camp Two. We need to avoid their attack until we have everyone ready here. If they attack, same thing. Do not try to fight. Retreat as far back as Camp One if you need to, bringing Camp Two with you. General Li will have his plan for our own advance.”

She scrubs away the drawing of the mountain and outlines their map to the two other camps, showing them their multiple routes there. When the meeting is concluded, each of the Officers leaves the small fire and finds their men to relay any of the information that they need. She swipes her foot over her drawing, clearing it again before she gets up and dismantles the small fire that had only burned for tea-making purposes. 

She walks into camp and finds Po sitting with Jun, Ren, and Ba. Her eyes narrow and she considers going to find the tent that Po set up for them, but she quietly takes her seat beside Po instead. The conversation hasn’t entered dangerous waters yet. Jun and Ren are telling Po about some game they’ve been playing that Mulan has no interest in. Ba evidently has no interest either, rolling his eyes and giving exaggerated yawns behind their backs for Mulan’s enjoyment. 

“So, why you?” Ren asks when the conversation flows away from the boring. Mulan sits up and looks at Po, listening to the conversation again. “Did you draw the short stick?”

Po laughs good-naturedly and shakes his head. “Privileges of brotherhood. Yao wasn’t allowed, because of his Officer duties.” 

“And Ling?” Jun asks. 

“He drew the short stick,” Mulan says in a clipped voice. She hadn’t brought him specifically because of Jun, but she hadn’t needed to give a reason beyond she’d chosen Po for this task. 

“Who’s making dinner?” Ba asks, interrupting and cutting the tension. 

“My night,” Jun says. 

“We’ll be back for dinner, then.” Ba gets up and gestures to Mulan. She follows him, the bow she’s taken from her back clutched tight in her hand. Po and Ren follow behind them, but not close enough to join their conversation. “What happened? What did I miss?” 

“What do you mean?” she asks, relaxing a little now that they’re away from Jun. 

“I’m not stupid.” He raises his eyebrows in a way that says ‘really?’ “Jun was closer to you than any of us before. He was the one who started in on your training before the rest of us had figured out if we liked you or not. I figured after four years, you would have been happy to see him if not the rest of us, but you clearly can’t get far enough away.” 

“So Jun hasn’t talked to any of you?” Why would he have? His first kiss had been rejected pretty violently and now that she was his Captain, there was no way he could admit to still trying to let his affections be known. 

“Apparently not.” Ba frowns with half of his mouth briefly before looking up into the sunset-streaked sky. 

“We were friends.” She agrees. “Things changed.” 

“When and why?” Ba presses. She could pull her Captain card to make him stop asking questions, but Ba is only concerned. He probably remembers just as well when Jun had brought her back from that hunting trip covered in blood and broken. He probably thought she would have been thankful and that the rescue had strengthened rather than hurt their bond. 

“After the tiger attack, before my troops disembarked.” She stops walking and raises her bow, taking an arrow leisurely from her waist and planting it into a tree. Ba looks from the arrow to her before raising his own bow and shooting just below it. “If it had been one misguided kiss, maybe I could have forgiven him,” she says finally. Ba’s neck almost snaps from how fast he turns to look at her. 

“What?” 

“I understand the moment,” she says quickly. “He had feelings and he thought I had been about to die. I understand the urgency there. I just… I rejected him and the next time I saw him was when he was sent to tell us that you all were in battle and needed backup. I had asked him why he’d done it and why he would even dream of kissing me when he has a wife and children. It didn’t matter and that makes it worse somehow. Now he’s tangled up with my brother, trying to win me over by making me jealous but I’m not jealous. I’m infuriated at him and my brother. Even if Jun doesn’t love his wife, my brother has a love that he’s also just trying to make care.” She grits her teeth, clenching hard and raises another arrow, shooting quickly, angrily. It soars and hits the same spot as the first, the two arrowheads pressed together in the tree. 

“Ping…” 

“He doesn’t care that I have a great love, that my heart belongs to another, that I—” She huffs and stops, going to the tree and yanking their arrows out of it. She turns and offers Ba his arrow back. 

“So you can’t be friends now?” Ba asks, though his voice tells her that he understands. She shakes her head stiffly. “Why didn’t you tell us before?” 

“I didn’t see you after the kiss and I didn’t think it mattered six years later.” She shrugs, the anger running out of her. “Why didn’t he tell you?” 

“You did say you rejected him. Perhaps he was embarrassed.” They start walking again and Mulan scuffs her boot in the dirt. “So Jun was only with Ling because of you and Ling was only with Jun because of Po?” 

Mulan looks over her shoulder at her brother. He and Ren have gotten distracted, both kneeling on the ground and looking at rocks or bugs. He’s too gentle. He shouldn’t be here in this war. She looks back at Ba. “I suppose.” 

“That’s why we’re at the farthest camp isn’t it?” 

“You and Ren aren’t being punished, but Jun should still be allowed to have his friends even if he isn’t my favorite.” 

“Bet it feels good to order him around and make him clean the latrines,” Ba smiles. She laughs at the unexpected light-heartedness and nods. 

“It does.” 

A week later, Po and Mulan stop when they’re a day out from reaching camp. The excitement at the reunion she’ll have with Shang wants her to push through the night and get there as fast as she can, but the wind is picking up in a way that says a dust storm will hit tonight. She and Po set up their tent and close themselves in before the wind gets too bad. 

“How long do you think this’ll last?” Mulan asks, pulling her armor off and wrapping her arms around her legs. 

“Hopefully, it will pass quickly. It might be over by morning.” Mulan can’t remember a single dust storm that was over by morning when she had somewhere to be and someone to see. “I know you’re still mad at me.”

“Why would I be mad at you?” she sighs, clearly still mad. 

Before they had left Jun’s camp, remarks had been made. Too many of them. Po had suggested she start kissing Jun to get over Shang as Ling had kissed him to get over Po. She’d threatened to shoot him if he said another word. Jun had had the audacity to ask if he could return with her and Po to which she had said a concise, “No, we need you here.”

Po had muttered, “Do we? Ling might be happier with his boyfriend back.” Mulan had stomped on his foot hard enough that Po took a step back with a surprised look in his eyes. The remark and her angry reaction had done nothing to quell Jun’s notion that Mulan wanted to be with Ling. 

The wind smacks the tent and Mulan wraps her blanket around her shoulders. Po fixes her with a look and she sighs. She doesn’t want to be mad. She wants to be able to love her husband freely so everyone can stop telling her to get over him and move on. She wants to watch two people she loves very much finally confess that they wish to be with each other as husbands and allow themselves to find happiness in each other’s arms once more. She doesn’t want to be mad, but she’s livid. 

“Fine, I’m angry with you and Ling, but we can’t keep talking about that for the rest of my years alive. I don’t want to be having this conversation when I’m old and frail. I don’t want to have to choose between you and Ling.” 

“He doesn’t love me, Ping,” Po says softly. 

“Then why is he so mad at you? Why would he go out of his way to act like this and stop talking to you? Why would you saying you don’t care who he kisses or beds send him into a rage? Why, Po? Because he thinks of you as nothing but a brother? Don’t answer that until you realize that it means he loves you and is hurt, because if you say anything else, I might have to hurt you.” She closes her eyes and breathes slowly. 

“I love him,” Po whispers. She opens her eyes and looks at him without the anger that she had held before. He’s sitting across from her, his armor beside him and his own blanket wrapped around him. 

“I know you do.” 


	22. Chapter 22

The wind picks up quickly. There’s barely any warning. They probably should have known this dust storm was coming after the blustery morning, but when those gusts of wind had turned up with nothing larger, everyone had relaxed. Shang looks up from the table in the war tent. He had not been looking over the path Mulan and Po were on while calculating when their return should be for the sixtieth time. He runs to the front of the tent that is now flapping wildly and lets go of the idea of getting back to his tent anytime soon. 

“Wait!” Ling yells. He’s covering his face and running toward Shang. Shang keeps the tent open long enough for Ling to make it in before he ties it down and backs away. “Thanks.” 

“No problem.” 

His heart his screaming, hoping that Mulan isn’t out riding in this. Hopefully, she was at a camp, safe inside of a tent. As long as she’s not out in the storm. Please let her not be out in the storm. He looks at the map again. She should be almost back. With how stubborn she is, she might have tried to make the final push through the night. She might be riding. 

“Where are they?” Ling asks, walking toward the table uncertainly. He’s rarely in this tent if ever. And if he had been in here, he’s not high ranking enough to be at the table. Shang gestures him over, granting the permission that had been silently asked. 

“These are the camps they visited,” Shang says, pointing to each of the five spots. “Their route…” He draws his finger through each camp. “They should be anywhere between here,” he points to the final camp, “and here.” He points just outside of his own base, his heart sinking. He swallows hard. She’s fine. 

Ling nods, his jaw clenched tight. He steps away from the table again and sits down on the floor. Shang joins him, unsure of what else to do with himself. He takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly. 

“They’re going to be alright, aren’t they?” Ling asks suddenly. 

“They were either at the last camp and had many places to take shelter or they’re almost back and they hopefully had the good sense to make camp before this,” Shang says before he can stop himself and just say that yes, they’re probably fine. They fall quiet again and Shang wrings his hands. 

“Are you worried?” 

“Yes.” He clenches his jaw and corrects himself quickly. “He— They’re my soldiers. Of course, I’m worried. Are you?” 

“He—  _ They _ are my brothers. Yes, I’m worried.” 

“Right,” they say almost at the same time but off enough that it sounds disjointed and awkward. They both shift. Shang is overly aware of the fact that he knows how Ling feels about Po and that Ling doesn’t know about Shang and Mulan. He doesn’t even know that Ping’s name is Mulan. Shang presses his lips together to keep from saying too much or anything at all. 

“Did you have storms like this at Fan Castle?” Ling asks when the silence draws on. 

“I don’t remember them being terrible, but that might be because I was inside rather than in a tent.” Shang shrugs. “If they did happen, they weren’t often and I was kept inside or I wasn’t there.” 

“Where else would you have been?”   
  
“Fighting.” 

Ling looks surprised and doesn’t try to hide it. He’s a pretty candid person when he’s not on duty and even then, he’s not a very serious person. He’s the one who is always trying to crack jokes or start up conversations to distract the soldiers from their aching feet as they march. The only time he seems stoic is in active battle. 

“I helped my dad with the chickens,” Ling says. Shang wonders if Mulan ever told him about how she would avoid her chores and make the dog feed the chickens. “Are you going to go back to Fan Castle when this is over?” 

“To greet my mother and sisters maybe, but not to live there.” Shang wants to go where Mulan goes and she doesn’t belong at Fan Castle. She wants a nice cottage off somewhere far from people where they can raise their children together. She wants her horses and chickens and a dog, of course. It wouldn’t do to put her in a palace and tell her to behave. He wouldn’t hear of it anyway. “Somewhere small and quiet with space to think. Where will you go?” 

“I had a house picked out but never moved in. It was supposed to be the house I moved into with my wife if we ever got married, but she died before the engagement was fully approved. I imagine living there with my chickens and my brothers nearby. A garden with herbs for—” He stops and looks down. “Nothing big.” 

Shang gets up again, unable to help himself from checking the map again. Before the storm had hit, he had hoped she was on track to be back by the end of tomorrow. Now, he hopes she’s a few days out, still at the last camp, safe and protected. 

Ling fidgets with the hem of his shirt as Shang steps away from the map again. He paces back and forth three times before sitting down again. 

“How did you and Ping become friends?” Ling asks. 

Shang thinks back to the beginning, bracing Mulan against his side after she’d fainted on the mountain. He thinks about watching her do archery and excel, retrieving the arrow from the pole, and sleeping in the rain. She still has the arrow. She keeps it with her but never uses it. She says it’s good luck. 

“I don’t know,” Shang says on an exhale. “We have a lot in common. Back at the first training camp we were both alone. No one was ready to walk up to their new Captain and try to be friends and no one wanted to risk their reputation by speaking to Ping. We both have a lot of pressure from our fathers. A lot to live up to in their names. It’s easy to become friends with someone who understands what you’re going through.” Ling nods, a small frown pulling at his lips. “What about you and Po?” 

“He lived in my village. He didn’t have any siblings so he would come to study or play with Yao and I since we were the closest to his age. I don’t remember becoming friends with him. We just always have been.” He shrugs. 

“And Ping?” 

“That was Po’s doing. He tried convincing Yao and I that we were being too hard on him. I knew it was true, but when Po started pointing it out, it got hard to ignore. I started realizing that because of what happened on the first day and how much we shunned him, that no one would talk to him. I never saw him eat anything. He slept outside. The poor guy was left to talk to the stars, and those don’t talk back. When he got the arrow and I found myself cheering with everyone else, I was ashamed. Po told me we had to try so we did.” Ling hugs himself and rests his chin on his knees. “Please let him be alright.” His eyes close and he looks pained. Shang knows which  _ he _ Ling is referring to, but he doesn’t answer. He’s thinking the same thing about the other  _ he _ . 

Shang clears his throat awkwardly and Ling looks up at him. “Know how to play Weiqi?” he asks. Ling sits up straighter and nods. “Make the board. I’ll get us some markers.” 

Ling starts drawing the simple board of boxes into the dirt in front of him as Shang gets up and goes to grab the war markers. His father would be appalled to see them used like this. Shang had been punished once too many years ago for doing this as a boy. It’s not a good memory, but he smiles anyway. Some things don’t change, and he will probably use the war markers for games many more times before his end. 

“Ping is great at this game,” Shang says as he hands Ling his pieces. 

“Yao and Po refuse to play with either of us because of that,” Ling says with a sly grin. “Ready to lose, General?” 

He wasn’t kidding. Shang has no idea how Ling and Mulan are both so good at this game. He’s never lost so many times in a row before, though he’s sure Mulan has let him win a few times. Ling would never and he obviously isn’t holding back either. 

The game was only partially successful in taking their minds from Mulan and Po. After each game, one of them comments on the wind. It isn’t letting up. It might be getting worse. With night pressing in, Ling and Shang play by candlelight while very obviously not letting go of thinking about the possible dangers. 

“Maybe we should sleep,” Shang says when Ling yawns. He has no idea how late it is, but the darkness is pressing in. 

“Do you think the storm will be over in the morning?” Ling asks, handing Shang the pieces back so he can put them away. 

“No, but we can hope.” Shang sighs and sits back down before pulling his hair free and lying on his back. 

From the sounds of it, neither of them sleep. Shang knows he doesn’t. He listens to the howling wind and the distant snores from other tents. Ling tosses and turns, and not once does his breathing slow nor does a single snore escape. The War Tent is filled with dread and anxiety. But Shang and Ling are both awake when the storm lets up in the early hours. 

“It stopped,” Shang whispers when the air is finally still. 

“By morning,” Ling answers quietly. 

“Did you sleep?” Shang asks, sitting up and tying his hair. 

“Did you?” They both know the answers are no and no respectively. “We have time for two more games before breakfast,” Ling says, dragging his finger through the dirt. 

“I’m ready to lose.” 

The next day, Shang stands alone in the war tent, going over letters from other Generals and the Emperor’s Advisor. It’s his only view into what is happening in other regions and back at the main palace. It’s also the only thing he can do that isn’t standing guard, waiting for Mulan and Po’s return. 

When the tent flap opens, Shang looks up and his heart leaps. Mulan is home. Shang drops the pages and goes to her, crossing the room in a heartbeat. He lifts her in his arms, kissing her and hugging her to him as her legs wind around his waist and her arms around his shoulders. Her lips peck every part of his face as he grins. 

“You’re home,” Shang says with relief, sinking to his knees with Mulan still wrapped tight in his arms. Their foreheads press together, the tips of their noses touching. 

“I’m home.” Her brown eyes glitter with the smile that she can’t shake now that she’s here. “Were you worried?” 

“No. Of course not.” 

“Only too much,” she corrects him, one of her hands cupping his jaw and lifting his chin so she can kiss him again. “I do have news.” 

“Tell me,” he says, inwardly sighing. He wants to just hold her for a little longer before work returns, but if she has news at all, it has to be important. 

“The enemy has been spotted by the Mountain.” Damn. 

By the time the war meeting is over, Shang is exhausted. He’s supposed to be eating with Mulan and her brothers tonight, but Mulan isn’t with them. He notices her absence from their table only after he gets near enough to hear them. 

“I don’t care what you say, Yao. He likes him back. We should tell him!” Ling pleads. 

“Shut up! Someone will hear you!” Yao snarls. 

“Wait, he likes him back?” It’s the first time in awhile that Po and Ling have spoken without fighting. Ling looks at him and nods. 

“The way he talked about him! You should have heard it! We have to tell Ping!” Shang’s stomach drops and he starts walking faster in the opposite direction. 

“If you say a word, I will end both of you,” Yao warns. 

“Hey,” Shang hears Mulan say as she sits down with them. Shang stops, wondering where to go or if he should pretend her heard nothing and join them now anyway. 

“Ping! Just the man I wanted to see! So, I was with General Li during the storm and—”

“If the next words out of your mouth are not  _ I realized I need to talk to Po _ , I swear I will shoot you.” 

“Don’t test him,” Po warns. “He’s both threatened and stomped on my foot hard enough I thought my toe was broken.” 

“It didn’t break, did it?” Mulan snaps. Shang turns around and walks toward the table to end their discussion that is surely about to end with Mulan drawing her bow any second. 

“Oh, hello, General,” Ling says sheepishly.

“Good evening, gentlemen,” Shang says, taking a seat next to Yao who looks like he’s just seen the best show of his life. 

Three more men plop down and Shang looks at his three friends. Xiu has planted himself next to Mulan and fixed Shang with a smug smirk. Tong, Biao, and Xiu exchange pleasant greetings with Mulan’s brothers before everyone starts eating and asking Mulan and Po about their trip. 

“Where were you when the storm hit?” Ling asks the question that both he and Shang have been thinking since they got trapped in the War Tent. 

“Not far from here,” Po says.

“I was going to try to push through the night, but the wind started picking up so we made camp.” Shang knew it. He shakes his head with a small smile as he takes a bite of his rice. 

“Would it kill you to stop trying to ride through the night just to make the trip shorter?” Yao asks.

Mulan considers it for a moment, pursing her lips before she says, “Yes.”   
  
  


Mulan wakes up with the sun. She sits up and stretches, a tiny noise escaping her lips as she does. Her hair is a black waterfall, falling down her back and over her bare shoulders. She turns and looks at Shang over her shoulder, a small smile on her lips. 

“Good morning,” she says gently. Shang runs his finger down her arm before resting his hand over hers on the ground beside him. 

“My love,” he sighs happily, sleep still thick in his voice. She turns around and snuggles against him again, kissing his chest gently. 

“We’re going to win this war,” she whispers against his skin. He wraps his arms around her and nods, his eyes closing so better bask in her love and fall quietly back to sleep. 


	23. Chapter 23

**Year 8**

Ling hasn’t been in civilian clothes since the day he had accepted the conscription notice. He feels almost naked to be outside of camp without his armor. 

The General had heard news of increasing numbers of the enemy at the mountain and had decided he needed a recon team, just a small one, to go check it out. It couldn’t be from one of the bases already set up out there because he was sure they were already being watched by the enemy. No, it had to be two people who the enemy hadn’t seen and looked like civilians so they wouldn’t attack. That was the hope anyway. 

Yao, traitor that he is, had offered Ling and Po to be those two men during the meeting. He can do that because he’s a Captain now, the old Captain dead a year now from an infection. Next thing Ling knew, he and Po were given their civilian clothes, mission, and two horses. 

Right now, they’re heading away from camp in silence. They’re headed for Sishui Village for their “observation only” mission. It’s rare that Ling even gets to ride a horse. When they travel, he’s among the lowly soldiers who walk. He wonders if this is how Ping feels all the time. Tall. 

“Why are you fidgeting so much?” Po asks and Ling jumps. He looks over at him and feels his heart in his throat. This is about to be the longest mission of his life. 

“I feel like I should be walking, but that would take too long. And why give up the opportunity to ride a horse?” Ling makes a point of not looking down. He is very high up. Tall. 

“Still scared of heights?” Po asks. Curse him for knowing him so well. Ling scowls at him. “We can’t share like we did when we were younger.” 

Ling tries not to blush at the memories. They had meant nothing to him when he was young. They were just friends stealing Po’s family horse all over town. Ling had always hated it. It was too high up and he would squeeze his eyes shut. Po had always sat behind him, his arms around him to hold the reins. The memories only started to mean something much later. Later, when he had been afraid of what was yet to come the first night of their journey to the training camp. It hadn’t meant anything really until he’d cried quietly, not as tough in the dark as he was when he was putting on a show for everyone, and Po had wrapped his arms around him tight. Ling had clung to him and cried into his chest and that was the first time he’d blushed over being so close to Po. That was the first time he’d thought about looking up and kissing him just to see what would happen. 

“No,” Ling lies. “You look nice,” he adds awkwardly. Po looks down at the clothes he’s wearing and pulls at them. 

“You too,” he says, looking away. 

He hates this. 

Every night is agony. They have their separate tents and a campfire in between them. Each meal is taken with quiet chatter as if they’re strangers instead of the best friends they always have been. Ling never should have kissed him. Their fling going up in flames has left their friendship smoldering. 

By the time they reach Sishui Village, they’ve managed to talk about their mission (“How many do you think will be there? Think we’ll attack soon?”), the weather (it’s been sunny, but Autumn is bringing a fresh chill to the air), and food (Ling happens to make the best tasting meals and Po manages to compliment them every breakfast, lunch, and dinner). 

“Wow,” Ling says as he looks up at the mountain. It’s a lot bigger than it’s always seemed. From a distance, the hunk of snow-covered rock could be a gentle hill. At the base, he sees that it is far from that. “You didn’t mention how big it was.”  
  
“You’ve seen it!” Po laughs. 

“Never so close!” Ling grins. It feels good to hear Po laugh. If his smile is enough to keep Ling going for days, his laugh keeps Ling going for years. 

Ling could kill Yao for sending the two of them out of everyone. 

“What’re you writing?” Ling asks. They’re sitting by their small fire, writing down their reports from their day. Po finishes a character and glances up. 

“My report.” 

Ling rolls his eyes and sighs. “What are you writing in your report?” he presses.

“That you’re trying to cheat off of me instead of just writing what you saw today.” Po smiles and Ling smacks his palm to his forehead to hide his blush. 

“I’m not cheating. I’ve already written what happened today, but you’ve written more.” Ling glances down at his own page that’s still drying. “We asked around Sishui Village and they don’t have accurate counts of anything, but they have noticed some suspicious persons. Those could be the enemy or regular bandits. We made sure the roads were clear, especially since we plan on traveling up to Mt. Song tomorrow.”

“I thought we were going to Camp Four tomorrow,” Po says, pausing his writing. 

“We know they’re fine. Why would we go to Camp Four?” 

“I figured you might want to see Jun while we’re all the way out here.” 

Ling sighs and sits up. “Why would I want to see Jun?” He’s tired of this. He’s never been more exhausted of anything in his entire life. Po looks confused and sits up too. 

“Because he likes you? Because you like him?” 

“There’s one thing that you two have in common, my friend,” Ling says on an exhale. “Neither of you like me.” Ling looks at his page again, unwilling to watch Po’s face for a reaction. “The enemy doesn’t have ambush points as far as I can tell. It seems like they’re still setting up and bringing in their men. From what I can tell, from accounts in town, if the suspicious people they see are the enemy, there isn’t a huge amount of them all at once, but there are new people coming in. They might be racking up their numbers before attacking. Tomorrow we can establish if they’re going into the mountain to hide their numbers.” 

“We can go to the temple tomorrow too if there’s enough time,” Po suggests. Ling nods. “Why would you even think that Jun doesn’t like you?” 

“Do we have to have this conversation?” Ling asks, wishing the ink would dry faster so he could disappear into his tent for the night and pretend that he’s totally fine. 

“He made love to you.” Wild accusations aside, why does Po even care? He’d said before how much he didn’t care. 

“Why would you even think that?” Ling shakes his head. “The most we ever did was kiss and that wasn’t because we liked each other. Besides, that was years ago.” 

“If he doesn’t like you and you don’t like him, then why did you ever kiss in the first place?” 

“Po…” Ling tests his page. Dry enough. He folds it up and shoves it into the pocket on the inside of his shirt. “Shouldn’t you be familiar with the concept? You’ve kissed me plenty.” They fall silent and Ling looks down, playing with the dirt in front of him. Ping had been wrong all those years ago. Ling can still hear Ping’s voice urging Po to talk to him. “ _ You love him as I love another. _ ” But Po never talked to him. Ping was wrong. 

“Ling, wait,” Po says as Ling stands and turns to go into his tent. He stops and waits as Po stands and walks over to him. His heart slams in his chest but he doesn’t move. Po’s hand hesitates before cupping Ling’s jaw and lowering his face to his. Ling kisses back immediately, pressing himself against Po and winding his arms around his shoulders. 

They shouldn’t be doing this. 

His heart is racing. Po’s lips against his are soft but not gentle at all right now. His tongue teases at Ling’s lips and Ling sucks him into his mouth, giving a small whimper when Po pulls him tighter. 

They shouldn’t be doing this. 

They stumble, lip-locked, into Ling’s tent and fall to the floor. His shirt is open now and Po’s hands on him are starting fires under his skin. His fingers dig into Po’s back. He needs to hold him. He needs this moment to last. 

They really, really should not be doing this. 

Their clothes are off, thrown aside and mixed up together. Their lips are crashing together and their hard cocks are pressed together between them. Po has never been particularly vocal, Ling moaning for the both of them. Ling comes first, spilling into Po’s hand and onto his dick. He gasps when Po rubs it into his ass and slides into him. 

Po’s name escapes from Ling’s mouth as he’s ridden and kissed. Po’s breath is hot on his neck, his lips brushing his collar bone as he thrusts into him. They’re both sweating and panting, Ling’s moans and whimpers a private show, just for Po. 

When Po reaches his climax, shuddering and filling Ling, he groans and quiets himself by kissing Ling again. Each touch feels like it will make Ling crumble. Each kiss fills his heart with more hope than he can stand to hold. He makes a sound of protest when Po rolls off of him. 

“Po?” 

He’s sitting up and has his head in his hands. He looks like he regrets everything that just happened. Ling’s stomach flips. 

They shouldn’t have done that. 

He watches Po separate their clothes and dress himself again, avoiding Ling’s eyes. He watches Po stand up and walk toward the tent flap. 

“Po?” 

“I’m sorry. We shouldn’t have.”

They really shouldn’t have. 

Ling waits until he hears Po lie down in his own tent before he pulls on his clothes and buries his face in his blankets, sobbing as quietly as he can. 

The next morning, Ling doesn’t make breakfast. He’s not hungry. He packs up his things and mutters that he’s headed to the mountain to do some tracking. He doesn’t bother looking to see if Po nods or reacts at all. He doesn’t wait around to hear if Po plans on joining him or heading somewhere else. He doesn’t care. He can’t breathe near him. He needs to be alone. 

Ling makes his way to the base of Mt. Song and pushes Po out of his mind, focusing on the footprint trails that are leading into the mountain. His heart sinks. There are more tracks than there should be for only a few enemies or bandits. Robbers wouldn’t have these kinds of tracks. He walks carefully around, trying to appear inconspicuous as he uses the tracking skills he’d been taught over the years. 

He follows, trying to find evidence of camps made or abandoned campfires. He doesn’t want to follow the trail in the other direction which would lead him straight into the mountain and probably into their lively camps. His skin crawls as he thinks about them watching him, but he looks like a civilian. A curious civilian maybe, but he wears no armor and has no weapons that are visible. He does have a blade tucked into his pants in case of an attack, but other than that, he’s unarmed. 

When he looked over his shoulder again, Ling spots Po back where he had started, also checking the tracks. He grits his teeth and keeps walking forward. 

There's definitely signs of camps being made, but it looks like the numbers stay small each time. Ling is sure they’re not bringing in everyone at once. It’s probably just like their outposts and their small recon missions. The entire Army of thousands doesn’t show up at once until they’re coming to fight. It would seem, they’re only preparing for their fight. 

Ling kneels beside a campfire that had obviously been covered. The rocks are scattered and there’s snow mussed about, but the ashes are mixed in. They definitely want to be discreet. Ling stands and looks around. He can hear something, but with the snow muffling sound, he can’t tell from which direction. He can’t see anything either. He rolls his shoulders to get the feeling of someone watching him out of his skin and looks back to the camp. It hasn’t snowed recently enough to hide the fact that there are more tracks than this small fire would help. He’s right then. They’re coming in groups. The General won’t be thrilled. 

The next sound Ling hears is too close and he can tell that it’s right behind him. He spins and kicks, knocking the guy on the jaw. He brings his fists close to him and crouches, ready to strike or protect himself. The next three strikes are from this enemy scout and then Ling goes for his knife. It was a mistake. 

Ling slashes, and sure, he gets his arm, blood immediately wetting the man’s sleeve, but his other hand grabs Ling’s and he hits a pressure point. Ling tries to keep hold of the knife as they struggle, but pain shoots up his arm and his fingers release. 

“No!” he hears Po yell just in time for the blade to enter Ling’s stomach. Ling punches him and tries to kick, but the knife splits into his side. He cries out and shoves the scout away.

Ling grabs his middle and stumbles a few steps before he falls. The guy isn’t coming after him anymore. Ling looks down at his hands, his vision swimming. The rest of him is cold from the air and the snow, but his hands are hot, covered in the slick blood. 

He spits blood into the snow and coughs. He blinks and when he opens his eyes again, he’s lying down.  _ Breathe _ , he tells himself. He keeps his hands pressed to his abdomen and rakes in a shaky breath. 

At least he got one last kiss. At least he got to pretend one last time. He coughs again and feels the blood on his lips. There’s something disconcerting about the fact that he can’t feel the pain. It had hurt when the knife went in both times, but now all he feels is cold. His hands feel wet and sticky. But he’s not in pain. 

“Ling!” 

Po.

“Ling, open your eyes. Look at me. Stay with me! Ling!” 

“Po,” Ling says, opening his eyes because he hadn’t realized they’d closed. He lifts his hand and caresses the face of the man he loves, smiling a little as he does. Po’s eyes are lighter brown than most and they shine like stars. His moonlight-pale skin is streaked with bright red where Ling has touched him. When he smiles, his eyes disappear, his cheeks turning pink. Right now, he’s not smiling. His eyes are searching and worried. His cheeks are pale. “I love you,” Ling breathes as his eyes slide shut again.

“I love you, but you have to stay awake. I love you so much. Just stay awake. Ling, please.” He must be dreaming. 

Po presses something to Ling’s stomach and the pain returns. He groans, wincing as Po moves him to tie something around him. The pressure hurts. Then, the ground is gone. Ling feels himself being lifted and he curls against Po, an arm protectively draped over his stomach. 

“You’re okay,” Po says through his teeth. 

“You need to know that I love you,” Ling whispers back. He coughs again and feels the rest of the world drop away, leaving him floating in nothing. 


	24. Chapter 24

“Ling?” Po stops walking when Ling’s arm falls, limp and swinging. His jaw is slack, but breath still puffs up from his lips. They have to move. 

He’d killed the enemy scout who’d stabbed Ling, but others had probably heard the scuffle if not seen it. Others would be coming. He can’t think about what Ling had said right now. He clutches him closer to his chest and looks for anywhere they can go. 

There’s a cave not far from here. It feels too far. It feels like he might never get there, especially with Ling now unconscious in his arms. He’s not heavy. Ling has always been thin, even after he started training and gained the muscle he had always severely lacked. Po had always been thick, strong, tall, and unnoticable even though he stands out. Ling had always said he was too quiet and that it took away from his height and bulk. Ling is loud and it makes him so much taller, so much bigger, so much more. 

“Okay,” Po sighs as he eases Ling down onto the cave floor. “We should be safe here for a few hours.” He looks out and sees a few more enemy scouts in the distance. “I need to get you back. The doctor can patch you up and you’ll be fine. You’ll be okay.” 

Ling usually looks more tan, but his face is pale and looks paler with his stained lips. Po takes his coat off and drapes it over Ling, smoothing his hair back gently and trying not to shiver. 

“Wake up,” he pleads, sitting down beside Ling and digging through his things to see if he can do anything about the wounds. He has a small med kit that they had been sent with  _ just in case _ . He finds the suture needle and thread and blanches. He has to. 

Po moves the clothing away from Ling’s torso, exposing the wounds that are still too fresh. The blood is smeared across his stomach. Po takes a deep breath before grabbing the suture needle. 

He has two cuts to finish and each of them will take at least seven stitches. Ling doesn’t wake, though he does groan. It pulls at Po’s heart, but at least he’s alive. When Po is finished, he bandages him and wraps more cotton wraps around him to keep everything in place. Ling has sweat beaded on his forehead and his breathing is labored. Po wraps him back up in their coats and hopes he did the right thing. 

Ling’s hands are stained red, and now Po’s match. As Ling’s breaths become shallow, Po puts a hand on his chest to feel the rise and fall along with his heartbeat. 

“I’ve waited too long, and now you might not live forever.” Po feels the tears stinging in his nose. He holds Ling’s hand gently and runs his thumb over the back of it. “I should have been by your side. You never would have gotten hurt. I should have been there.” 

All he can hear now that he’s alone in the silence is Ling’s whispered love. They have never used that word. The only time Po used it was when he was speaking to Ping in confidence. “ _ You need to know that I love you.” _

He replays the previous night in his head, the way things had ended. When he’d realized what they’d just done, despite how much it hurt last time they’d started messing around, Po had felt his heart shattering. It couldn’t have meant anything to Ling. Why would it? So Po had left. He got dressed as quickly as he could and he’d left. When he got to his tent, he'd broken down in tears and decided that maybe they should talk. Maybe they should finally talk in the morning. 

But in the morning, Ling had skipped breakfast. He’d skipped pleasantries. He’d have skipped packing up if he could have. It had made sense in a different way before. Ling had frozen him out again and it was because the night before had meant nothing. It had to have meant absolutely nothing to him. But then Ling was in Po’s arms, eyelids fluttering, bloodied lips whispering his love. And Po’s world was crashing down now. 

“You said I don’t like you,” Po says quietly. “You’re infuriating and have false confidence that gets you into terrible situations. I’m usually so level-headed and calm and everyone tells me how I’m too nice or have no personality, but that’s not true with you because you make me feel so much that I can’t just push it down or meditate. You make me so mad, and for the past few years, sad. But you make me happier than I’ve ever been. You… I like you and I love you. If I could spend the rest of my life with you, I would. I barely remember a life without you. You’ve always been right there. And I’ve been there, following you like a lost pup for my whole life. I’m everything that I am because of you.” 

Po takes his hand from Ling’s and wipes his sleeve across his wet cheeks. “You have to wake up because I can’t do this if you don’t. When we got our notices, you promised we would be side by side the whole time. I’ve got your back, you’ve got mine, remember?” His voice sounds choked and his breath hitches before he sobs. “I wasn’t there.” 

“Where are we?” Ling rasps. Po doesn’t know how long they’ve been sitting there. Maybe an hour, maybe two. His heart leaps and he grips Ling’s hand with both of his. 

“We’re near Mt. Song. I couldn’t get far. We had to find shelter or they would have killed us,” Po says, fully aware of the tears streaming down his face again. “You’re awake.”

“Am I?” Ling blinks and winces when he tries to move. “He stabbed me.” He still sounds tired, drugged with pain rather than any kind of medicine. “Wait... You..? Did you carry me?” 

“Yes.”

“Did you say anything?” Ling’s grip is weak, but his hand does tighten on Po’s. There’s a beat of silence and Po nods. “What did you say?” 

“I love you.” He feels breathless. He  _ sounds _ breathless. Ling’s eyes are half-lidded and the color still hasn’t returned to his cheeks. 

“Did you mean it?” 

“Yes.” He takes one hand to stroke Ling’s cheek. His eyes close and he leans into the touch. “I have always cared. Before the war, I cared. Before your engagement, I cared. I don’t know why I said I didn’t and I’m so sorry, Ling. I’m so sorry.” 

“I kissed him to try to make you admit it. It didn’t work so I thought Ping was wrong.” His voice is drifting again. “Guess it took dying.” 

“You are not going to die,” Po says with conviction that has never been in his voice before. He rarely talks above a soft volume. Ling furrows his brow at the sound, his eyes still closed. 

“I liked falling in love with you,” Ling says with a small smile before his head falls to the side again. 

“Ling, no.” Po looks out over the mountain from the mouth of the cave and sees nothing but their horses. “We’re going. Okay, we’re going.” 

Po lifts Ling carefully and carries him back to their horses. It’s a short walk. He’s never had to do something like this before. He rests Ling in the saddle of his horse while he makes adjustments. After moving their equipment to Ling’s horse, he joins him, pulling Ling close again, and keeps the reins of both horses in his hands. 

Ling is bundled up in both of their coats and slumped against Po’s chest. The best route to take would be to go to Camp Four and send someone to tell the General what’s happened. It’s definitely a shorter ride and they need shelter now. 

“Po!” Ren waves from the camp. His smile falls as Po draws close enough for him to see that Ling’s horse is without a rider and that Ling is unconscious. “What happened?” 

“We were attacked. The General sent us on an observation only recon mission. Some enemy scouts found us and Ling got hurt.” Po dismounts and carefully pulls Ling from the horse and holds him. “Where’s your doctor?” 

“This way,” Ren says, eyes flickering from Po’s face to Ling’s. He turns and starts for the doctor quickly, Po right behind him. 

The med tent here is a lot smaller, but it’s also far less occupied. Po lays Ling down in one of the five beds and steps away as the doctor starts to peel back the layers. 

“If I leave now, I can be at Base in two or three days,” Ren says, pulling Po from the tent. “We have to go talk to Ba, though.” 

“I don’t want to leave him.” Po digs his heels in and looks back at the tent. Ren pulls at his arm anyway.

“He’ll be okay. Doc has him and that’s the best we can do. We have to get the news to the General. Come on.” Po reluctantly follows Ren through the camp. He feels dazed like his body is moving but his brain is still trying to catch up. “Jun, where’s Ba?” Ren asks as they pass him. A surge of jealousy hits Po, but he swallows it. 

“His tent,” Jun says immediately. They move on too quickly for Jun to ask any questions and Po is thankful for it. 

“Ba!” 

They’re moving too quickly and Po is reeling. He tunes them out, his ears ringing as he tells them what happened and when and hands Ba their two reports. Ling’s is smeared with blood. His hands are shaking and he can’t tune them back in now that they’re trying to talk to him. His heart is beating too quickly. His heart has closed.

Ba sits him down after Ren nods and runs off with the two reports. He’s probably adding his own report of what happened to them and leaving. Someone brings tea and Ba waits patiently as Po drinks in the Ginseng.

“I need to set up a tent,” Po says when he can hear himself again. 

“Someone else can do that for you. You need to be with Ling.” Ba helps Po back up after making sure he’s okay to stand. Together, they walk back to the med tent. “I’ll set up your tent just outside,” he says, leaving Po at the entrance. 

He steps back inside and the noise from camp seems to die away. He walks slowly to Ling and kneels beside him. The doctor had checked the stitching and deemed it fine. There really isn’t much else to do for him but wait for him to wake up or die. 

And he can’t die. 

Po jerks awake when he feels Ling’s hand on his cheek. He hadn’t meant to fall asleep. Ling still looks tired, but his eyes are fixed on Po who turns his face into Ling’s hand and kisses his palm. 

“You stabbed me,” Ling says, his throat dry. 

“What?” Po almost sits up, but if he moves, then Ling can’t reach his cheek anymore. “The enemy scout stabbed you.”

“And then  _ you _ stabbed me,” Ling says insistently. “Repeatedly.” 

“What are you talking about?” This time he does sit up. He grabs the cup of water that he had waiting for Ling to wake up and gives it to him to drink. Ling takes a sip before continuing. 

“You didn’t think I slept through that torture of you learning how to sew, did you?” Now Ling is smiling, just a little. Po grins and leans into Ling’s hand. “Try on a doll next time. No. Dolls don’t deserve that kind of punishment either.” 

“I saved you, you idiot.” He laughs and Ling’s smile grows a tiny bit. 

“Thanks for that,” he says seriously. 

“When we make it back to Base, you will have survived this, but I think Ping and Yao might kill us.” Po closes his eyes again, still exhausted. He guesses that Ling follows suit but doesn’t check. 

“Yao and Ping have been trying to get this to happen for almost a decade. I think they’ll be fine,” Ling sighs. “If anything, a party will be thrown and we can eat sweets while we bask in the glow of never having to have Ping threaten to shoot us ever again.” Po yawns and nods, agreeing quietly. “Just don’t do that to me again.”

“I won’t.” He opens his eyes and takes Ling’s hand to kiss it again, sealing the promise. He closes his eyes again and falls asleep, heart full. 

It’s been a week. The days had moved slowly with Ling unable to move much and constantly wondering aloud how Ping had managed the leg wound and shoulder bite at the same time. Eventually, they had moved Ling out of the med tent and into the tent that Ba had set up for Po and Ling. 

It’s late afternoon, but he isn’t scheduled to work anymore, so he starts pulling out his bed clothes. Ba could have set him up with chores or tasks around camp, but he knew that Ling needed someone with him as he healed. Besides, Po didn’t have his uniform or armor. The most he could do was cook or clean and he had already offered to do that. 

“Come here, sexy,” Ling says with a grin as soon as Po takes his shirt off. 

“I don’t see anyone but you who fits that description,” he says, trying to cover himself. He doesn’t particularly look manly or sexy. He can’t grow hair anymore and all that he had had in his childhood is gone. There’s nothing on his head to wear in a soldier’s knot. There’s no arm hair or chest hair. He’d lost all of his hair before his pubic hair even had a chance of growing in. 

“I do. Come here.” Po puts down the clothes he had been about to change into and kneels beside Ling. “Do you miss my hair?” 

“You never combed it. I figured you liked that it disappeared,” Ling sighs. He kisses Po gently before running his hands over the bald head. “No one else looks like you. I like that.”

Po smiles and runs his fingers through Ling’s hair. He will never point it out, but he can see three gray hairs amid the mass of black. Two on the left side, one on the right, both at the temples. “I never combed it because it was falling out,” he corrects. “I don’t look like an honorable man.”

“You do so. Cut it out.” Ling kisses him again and readjusts with a grimace. “When do you think we can go back?”

“You want to get back on a horse right now?” Po threatens. 

Ling shakes his head quickly. “What are you, insane?” 

“Just rest. I’ll try to get us back after Ren returns with word from the General. He will probably have messages from Yao and Ping too. Then we can see if you can move enough for the ride back.” Po sits back and pulls on his sleep shirt, cold in the Autumn air. “You and Ping can compare battle scars.”

“That will be fun. Two tiny stab wounds compared to a tiger attack. I wonder who will win.” 

“Well, Yao also got a knife through his hand a few years ago, remember that?” They both laugh. He’d been pretty proud and not at all worried as he was patched up. 

“You’re the only one left,” Ling says, his smile slipping a little. “Let’s keep it that way.” 

This time when Po kisses him, it isn’t a peck to say hello or goodbye or goodnight or good morning. It’s an apology that he can’t make a promise like that no matter how much he would like to. Ling’s lips part with his, an answer, an understanding. His hair flows over Po’s fingers as he holds him closer. The front of his shirt is balled into one of Ling’s fists, the other hand on his shoulder. 

There’s no feverish escalation. There’s nowhere to escalate to with Ling in this condition. These kisses aren’t about going to bed together. They’re just a new way to communicate. Another way to feel close. They’ve kissed tons of times, but the new kisses are different. Now there aren’t misunderstood feelings or unspoken things. Now they can tell the truth. 

“I love you,” Po says against Ling’s lips because now he finally can. 

“I love you,” Ling answers, smiling. 

By the second week, Ling is doing well. He can sit up and walk with some difficulty, but he can’t make it onto the horse yet. Ren had returned with word from the General, Ping, and Yao. The General had told them that their mission was an overall success and once Ling had healed enough, they were to return to base. Ping had sent well wishes for a speedy recovery and his thankfulness that nothing worse had happened. Yao only said, “About time. Get your asses back here.” 

“You and your brothers seem very close,” Jun says as he hands them the food he’s made. Ling nods as he thanks him for lunch. “Have you all known each other since childhood?” It’s been easier talking to Jun now that he isn’t a threat to Ping and he has no designs on Ling. He’s actually very nice. He’s fine at cooking, but nothing will ever beat Ling’s. 

“No,” Ling answers after swallowing his bite of rice. He takes another bite before he’s finished answering so Po takes over. 

“Yao, Ling, and I were from the same village, but we met Ping when we were in training. We weren’t fast friends, but Ping fit into our group perfectly once we all gave him a chance. We became brothers soon after leaving training.” 

“Yao and I always pretended we were brothers anyway,” Ling adds. “Yao only had younger sisters and I had two older sisters. Our mothers were friends so we met before we were even sent to the same school. When we got to school, we told everyone we were brothers.”

“No one bought it,” Po interjects. “But no one ever said anything because Yao’s fists would be the answer.” They all laugh and Ling’s hand rests on Po’s for a moment before going back to his bowl. 

“What about you three?” 

“Oh, we didn’t know each other at all until we wound up in the same Archer Unit.” Ren looks at Ba and Jun and the two nod. “We even trained in separate units before we were assigned to General Chen.” 

“I don’t know what he’s talking about. We’re not even friends,” Ba jokes. Ren shoves him with a smile. “We’re all pretty close, but not bound.”

“Many envy you for it,” Jun says simply. The other two nod. Po hadn’t thought about it before. It’s not like every friend who ends up in the army together makes a binding pact as heavy as the one they had made. It happens, but it isn’t common. 

“We thought Ping was going to transfer to our Unit for awhile,” Ba says and Po almost gasps. He can’t imagine what would have happened if Ping had stayed with General Chen’s Infantry. “General Chen certainly wanted a man with his skills after he saw him shoot, but General Li was adamant that Ping stay with you lot. There were a few messages about it from both Li and Chen about it, but it was decided that there would be no movement of men unless absolutely necessary. Not long after that, you all packed up and left.” 

“How did you know about this? We never heard anything!” Ling looks between Ba and Po with wide eyes. Po only shakes his head. He hadn’t heard anything of this either. 

“I happened to overhear them arguing,” Ren says with a half shrug. 

“Sneak,” Jun laughs. “You also read the letters while they were drying. At least, Chen’s. You only saw General Li hand his off to the messenger.” 

“I was curious,” Ren defends himself with a guilty smile. “I wanted Ping to stay with us!” 

“So did I,” Jun says. Po’s stomach churns. 

“We all wanted Ping to stay,” Ba says evenly. “It worked out, though. He’s a great Captain.” 

When they finally make it back, it’s the end of the third week away. Ping and Yao practically run to them when they enter camp. Well, Ping makes his way there with a look of excitement while shouting as he can’t physically run, and Yao walked with him with a grin instead of a scowl. 

“My brothers!” Ping yells. Po runs to him and lifts his smallest brother, squeezing hard. “You’re both idiots!” he says when he has his feet back on the ground. 

“Welcome back,” Yao says. He’d hugged Ling gently but gave Po a swift punch to the shoulder. “You both deserve that, but one of you managed to get stabbed on an observation only mission.” 

“Is it over?” Ping asks with hope in his eyes as Po rubs his shoulder and laughs. “Is the pining and fighting finally over?”

“It’s only been an entire dynasty of terror,” Yao grumbles. He used to take the approach of not wanting to know what was going on between Ling and Po, but now, he waits for the answer that Ping is begging for. 

“Yes, it’s over,” Ling laughs. “Now, I think we were told to report to the General.” 

“War Tent,” Ping says with a large grin. He steps aside and Po thinks about hugging him again, but they do have a meeting. There is a war going on, after all. 


	25. Art for Part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> All art by insominia! I love that we're both still blown away that you stepped out of the box to illustrate this story! Thank you for the wonderful artwork and everything else you've been doing with me for this fic!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> End of Part Two, everyone! Enjoy the art! Part Three will start next Tuesday! Last stretch here. Hope you're ready! The ending is sad but that isn't for awhile. I WILL leave a note on which chapter to skip/stop reading at if you're not okay with MCD or sad endings. (I'm not that cruel.)  
> Thank you to everyone who is reading and leaving comments and kudos. Each one makes a world of difference for me. Leave questions, comments, hopes, in the comments! I love hearing what you think!


	26. Chapter 26

**Year 12**

Twelve years ago, at the end of Spring, she had been preparing for her matchmaking ceremony. She had been bathed by her mother and grandmother, the soaps rubbed into her hair and skin to wash away the farm. Primped and polished for an instant bride. It had taken four hours to wrap her in the dress, do her makeup, and pull her hair up into something someone else would wear. She had looked the part and she was supposed to bring honor to her family this way. 

Today, in the heart of Winter, she hadn’t taken a bath. She’d brushed her teeth and combed her hair up into a Captain’s knot before she’d pulled her clothes on alongside her secret husband. They secured their armor and put on their helmets. Rough and ready for war. It took hours to dress and pack up their canons, weapons, and tents into the wagons. She looked the part of Captain and she would bring honor to her family, the Emperor, and all of China this way. 

Where she had once been adorned with beads of jade, a flower comb, and a pendant, she now wears a sword, her bow, and her arrows. 

“Ancestors, hear my plea. Help me to not make a fool of me and to not uproot my family tree. Keep my father standing tall,” Mulan had prayed on both days. “Keep my country standing tall,” she added today. 

Thousands of men walk in the snow behind Shang. The cool air can’t penetrate the armor, but everyone’s breath comes out in small dragon puffs. Mt. Song is covered in the snowy blankets of Winter that they now tread on. 

Mulan’s archers are spread out throughout the masses, yet she knows where each one is placed. No one moves from formation today because today, they attack their enemy and hope to end the war. Everyone is silent, conversations having ended hours before when they had entered the mountain pass. Voices carry in a place like this. 

“Take cover!” someone shouts just as the rain of arrows starts. Mulan and her archers look skyward and take aim, firing back with their own hail of arrows. This isn’t how this was supposed to go. There had been word from a villager in Sishui of the enemy making problems in the mountain. Shang had sent ahead the recon scouts and there had been nobody. There had certainly been signs that the enemy had been there, but none of attack. They had come today expecting to get the drop on them, not the other way around. The villager was either bribed or was a disguised enemy himself. 

A flaming arrow falls near a wagon with cannons. “Save the cannons!” is called out as everyone surges forward to get out of range of the arrows. They’re all drawing their swords and ready to start their fight. As the others set up their defensive line, Mulan and her units pick off the enemy archers that had been hidden in the sides of the mountain. 

Jun, Ren, and Ba are all blended in with the rest of her men as they attack. She isn’t looking to see how well everyone is doing now. Her eyes and arrows are up. She watches her arrow embed itself in the unarmored chest of an enemy archer. His own arrow falls from his fingers and blood spills down his front. 

One after another, they go down. Arrow through the eye, arrow in the chest, two in a stomach, one in a kneecap which makes him fall down the side and crash, his skull splitting as he hits a jagged rock. 

Shang’s men are firing their cannons ahead. She can hear him calling, “Fire!” before the booms. It’s just noise right now, noise that tells her they’re alive and fighting without her having to check. 

“Check for more!” Mulan orders when the return fire has stopped. A few of her men climb up, searching for anyone hiding who could potentially sneak up behind them if they left to join the rest of their troops. 

She watches them, her eyes scanning for movement and to be sure her men are safe. 

“Clear!” Jun calls. She nods and looks away. 

“One!” another calls as he stabs. There’s a grunt and a body falls. 

“Clear!” comes a few more times before Mulan is satisfied. 

“Move ahead!” she orders, motioning for them to follow and fall in line with the rest of the army.  
  
“Hold the last cannon,” Shang tells the soldier who has it. It’s quiet for a moment, the fallen men and horses in the snow looking like scorched marks against the white snow.

When she makes it to the front, she sees the enemy forces in full. More men crest the hill. They haven’t made a dent. They have a mirrored line, thousands stretched out. Both on foot and on horses, there are men with swords and spears ready to fight. Their leader is at the front, leading them forward. 

“Prepare to fight!” Shang calls out. “If we die, we die with honor!”  
  
 _Please bring honor to us,_ Mulan thinks. _Please bring honor to us all._

At full force, their Army dwarfs Shang’s Infantry. They’re all running, war calls being screamed as they come. They’re ready to end the war too. They’ve come for blood. 

“Aim for the leader,” Shang instructs the man with the last cannon, but Mulan sees an opening. If it’s aimed to the side, there’s a chance it could cause an avalanche. At the least, it would dislodge rocks and send them flying over the enemy. 

“No!” Mulan dismounts and pushes to where the soldier is, his hand poised above the fuse. 

“Ping!” Shang yells. She ignores him and grabs the cannon, attempting to run forward to make sure the blast isn’t close to her army. Her lame leg can’t keep up with how fast her adrenaline is pushing her. She falls and slams the cannon down where she’s fallen. “Ping!” Mulan lights the fuse and aims. 

There’s kick-back as the cannon fires. A group of enemies and their leader are headed straight for her, but with the blast, they all stop in their tracks, ducking or dodging. She sits up with triumph and as she does, the leader raises his sword and swings it toward her. 

Mulan stumbles back as a loud roar takes over. The mountain begins to tremble, snow slipping. Mulan grins and turns to run. 

“Ping!” Shang shouts. He’s running toward her and so is her horse. Everyone else is turning tail and running as the avalanche starts claiming hordes of men. There are screams and yells behind her but they just mix with the deafening thunder of snow. 

Mulan jumps up onto Magu and turns. He’s far enough ahead that he has time to turn and run before the snow starts swallowing his boots. A few enemies are mixing with their troops and are either being shoved backward into the snow or stabbed along the way. A few will have to be killed later, but a few are better than the thousands they were facing before. 

The snow is starting to fall more rapidly, making it look like a heavy snowstorm. Magu has to jump to get out of it, the snow starting to come up to his knees, but they’re escaping. She keeps her eyes ahead, scared that if she looks back she’ll fall back into the snow. 

“Come on!” she shouts. She dares to look and finds hands with wiggling, straining fingers poking through the snow before they’re buried. Her stomach flips. That will not happen to her. Magu seems to feel her urgency and whinnies, pushing forward. 

They outrun the gulping snow and she feels herself let go of a held breath. They’re okay. They made it out. Shang is still running ahead of her, his sword red with the blood of a few enemies he’s met along the way. 

The falling snow lightens as they escape the sideways avalanche, but they still have to get out of the mountain and kill the remaining enemy soldiers. The picking off of enemies is already started, swords clashing and red splashing across white. 

Mulan raises her bow. It’s not usual for her to fire from horseback, but then it’s not usual for her to start avalanches to swallow thousands of men either. She carefully aims to assist rather than kill because they’re moving too much. She shoots them in their shoulders and legs to stop them from running or make them drop their weapons. She watches Yao run his sword through one of the ones with her arrow in his arm. 

“Shang!” Mulan screams when she sees him nearing a crevasse while busy with two enemies. He’s holding his own, but if he doesn’t stop moving backwards, he’s going to fall. She pulls the reins and spins Magu to run to him. Mulan shoots them both, one arrow going through a man’s throat and the other going deep into a spine. Shang delivers final blows, ice cracking under his foot. Mulan leaps from Magu to charge for Shang. Magu’s weight on the edge of the crevasse would have made it swallow them all. Mulan grabs Shang’s arm just as he slips. “Shang, no!” 

“You have to run!” Shang yells at her. She grits her teeth and pulls. “Mulan! Go!”

She cries out, pain splitting her side as she pulls. Shang is panting. He’s good at hiding his fear, but she knows him, and right now, he’s terrified. “I’ve got you,” she promises through her teeth. A guttural groan or scream or both erupts from her as she lifts him enough for him to crawl out. 

“You’re crazy,” Shang pants, hugging her to him for a moment. “Come on.” He grabs her hand and pulls her back to her horse. They mount and she whips the reins, yelling. 

She tries to keep it together, keeping her arms close to her sides as they ride. It’s not a far ride, but Magu can’t run with all the weight. Nor does Mulan think she could take the running with the pain that seems to be spreading outward from her stomach. 

The troops aren’t where she left them, having gone after a few other stragglers probably to finish them off. It looks like it was an established retreat point, but Mulan knows none of them expected the avalanche so that’s not it. They all wait for their General and Bow Captain, farther down the path they had taken in, away from the mounds of snow that is burying and chilling the bodies of their enemies. As she approaches, she hears the cheers. 

“Let’s hear it for Ping: the bravest of us all!” Ling shouts above the others, pumping his arms in the air, a wide grin on his face. 

“The King of the Mountain!” Yao bellows. 

“Ping! Ping! Ping!” Po celebrates.  
  
They’re getting closer but somehow their voices sound farther away. They’re fuzzier too. She takes a few breaths. Shang is saying something to her. The pain in her side makes her groan and double over as the world tips. 

“Ping!” 

She slides from Magu’s back and her head hits the snow. 

“He’s wounded! Get help! Ping, hold on!” 

Her eyes flutter and she releases her breath. She watches the dark worry in Shang’s eyes spread until all she has is the darkness and the cold beneath her cheek. 

_You’ll bring honor to us all._

_Boys will gladly go to war for you._

_You’ll bring honor to us all._

_This could be the day._

_Calm. Obedient._

_You’ll bring honor to us all._

_We all must serve our Emperor._

_A man by bearing arms._

_You can’t fail._

_You’ll bring honor to us all._

_Destiny._

_Please bring honor to us all._

_“If we die, we die with honor.”_


	27. Chapter 27

Shang’s heart is pounding in his chest. His feet have worn a path in the snow from his constant pacing outside of the tent they’d set up for Mulan. She had to be protected from the wind and the chilled air as the doctor did his job. 

Everything had seemed fine. They were riding away from the battle victorious. More than victorious. There seemed to be no survivors, the men unburied by the snow all killed during their attempt at escape. Mulan had groaned and doubled over and then she was falling. Shang had never leaped from a moving horse before, but he did then. 

The doctor pokes his head out of the tent and Shang’s head snaps up. He goes to him immediately, but the doctor doesn’t look pleased. 

“Is he okay?” Shang asks, anxiety coursing through him. He doesn’t know what he would do if Mulan didn’t make it. He swallows hard as the doctor pulls him into the tent. 

_“He_ is a woman, General,” the doctor says. 

All of the blood in Shang’s body runs colder than the snow outside. In his rush to make sure Mulan survived, he… This is his fault. Mulan blinks blearily and looks up at him. She looks defenseless and dazed. This is his fault. 

“No,” Shang breathes. He knows what’s expected of him in this moment. He turns around and leaves the tent, his stomach churning rapidly. He might throw up. He can’t hurt her. He won’t kill her. How is he expected to cut off her head for this? How did they manage to keep this a secret for twelve years and just now have her be discovered? 

“A woman,” the doctor declares. Shang turns around in time to see the doctor pulling Mulan out of the tent. She falls in the snow and Shang almost reaches out to catch her. The doctor pulls the blanket she has clutched around her along with her tie. Her long hair falls forward and she’s exposed from the waist up. Shang clenches his jaw so hard his teeth might crack. 

_“I knew there was something wrong with you,”_ someone says, though Shang can’t discern who with the ringing in his ears and pain in his heart. 

_“Treacherous snake.”_

Mulan covers herself with one of her arms as she sits up. She doesn’t say anything as her eyes connect with his. She knows what he’s supposed to do. She isn’t even going to fight it. 

_“High treason!”_

_“Ultimate dishonor.”_

She looks so much different than the day she walked into camp. Her hair had been tied up, her brown eyes wide with fear and uncertainty. Right now she is anything but uncertain. She looks the Captain she is, strong, determined, right, honorable despite the position she’s in. She had never expected to make it this far and right now, she thinks this is the end. 

Shang is a coward though. His hand is shaking on the hilt of the sword that he’s supposed to end her life with. He never stood a chance against her. She makes his heart beat, his lungs take in air, and his life meaningful. He married her in the privacy of his own tent over a decade ago. He lost four children with her. They had fought side-by-side, survived a tiger attack, vanquished enemies, fallen in love, and chosen their love above all else every day for twelve years. He can’t. He can’t. He can’t. 

“I will return to you,” she whispers, hanging her head in front of him. 

Shang drops the sword in the snow and turns around, his back to the love of his life. “Move out.” Every step he takes away from her feels like it’ll be his last. 

“We can’t just leave her here!”

“A life for a life,” Shang says, surprised that the tears he feels stinging in his nose aren’t spilling into his voice. “My debt is repaid. I said move out.” 

No one says another word as they fall in line and leave their Captain, his wife, alone in the snow with a fresh battle wound. They walk with only the sound of snow crunching under boots to accompany them. Everyone should be cheering, patting each other on the back, laughing. Instead, the weight of loss threatens to bury them in the same snow that buried their enemy. Silence presses in and Shang feels like he’s going to shatter like ice. 

“She is our brother!” Yao yells. Shang flinches. 

“Yao, no!” Ling has tears in his voice. Shang turns and finds Po holding Yao back. 

“We can’t go back for her,” Po says evenly. 

“Keep your eyes forward. You can’t go back for her. That’s an order,” Shang says, throat tight. The struggling stops reluctantly and he pushes forward. It’s silent again and Shang isn’t sure he can keep going. 

As soon as they make it out of the mountain and into the forest at the base, Shang orders everyone to make camp. Tents are propped up and fires are started. Shang makes his tent and stares at the bedroll that he’s shared with her for years. Shang’s head falls into his hands as he begins to sob, kneeling alone in his tent. 

“She’s our brother!” Shang hears again. Yao is crying, their own tent close enough for Shang to hear them. 

“We don’t even know her name,” Ling says. “Did we know her?”

“We knew the true her,” Po says softly. “We’re just missing a name.” 

“She’s dying and we’re breaking our vow,” Yao cries. 

Shang can’t listen anymore. He leaves his tent and decides to walk far enough that he can’t hear them. He wipes furiously at his face but the tears keep coming. When he stops, he realizes it’s raining. 

_“I don’t know what’s important. I don’t know what I want to talk to you about. I want to know your favorite color and what you dream about. I want to know if you have ever cried in the rain or cooked your favorite food,”_ Mulan’s voice rings in his ears. It makes him cry harder, shoulders shaking as he crumples to the ground. 

_“My favorite color? Red. I have cooked when I had to. We won’t have a chef out there. After training is over, we’re on our own. I have never cried in the rain, but there’s still time,”_ Shang had answered then. His favorite color isn’t red anymore, it’s the pink her cheeks turn when he makes her blush. He cries in the rain now, the drops from the clouds above hitting his skin and chilling him. They mix with his tears and he stops trying to wipe it all away. 

“Mulan,” he chokes. “I would be with you if I could,” he answers her hours too late. “I would be with you if I could,” he says again, heart tearing open in his chest. 

He doesn’t know how much time passes before the tears subside and he’s left feeling hollow as he sits in the rain. It’s later still when he hears footsteps and looks up slowly to find Xiu walking toward him. His face is grim as he approaches. 

“I’m not going to bother asking if you’re alright,” Xiu says as he takes a seat next to Shang. “You’re worse now than you were when Xuan died.” 

“That’s because this is worse than when Xuan died,” Shang says. “This wasn’t a bandit killing my friend during a fight. She’s going to die on that mountain and it’s my fault. She saved everyone. She saved China. And now she’s going to die alone and in pain.”

“I would hardly call the guy I walked in on you making out with multiple times a friend unless you and I somehow skipped that level of friendship,” Xiu tries, but Shang doesn’t laugh it off like he used to. “Did you love her?” he asks more seriously, tone lighter. 

“Yeah, I love her,” Shang says softly. 

“When did you get hurt?” Xiu asks, lifting Shang’s arm. There’s not a lot of blood, but there’s some. Shang shrugs. “Get your ass to the doctor and get checked over.” Shang doesn’t move. “Now.” 

If they hadn’t been best friends since boyhood, Shang could have him written up for talking to his General like that. Instead, he gets up and walks with his friend to the med tent for a scratch and some bruises. 

“Want to come have some dinner with me?” Xiu asks as Shang ducks out of the tent. 

“No. I think I’ll just walk. I need to think.” Knowing him too well, Xiu leaves him be, walking off toward his own tent where he no doubt has dinner with Tong waiting. Shang can’t think about going back to his own tent right now. Mulan won’t be joining him tonight. When he had known she was okay, off on her missions and apart from him, he’d slept fitfully. He knows he won’t sleep tonight unless accompanied by nightmares and guilt. 

Every footstep is one that could belong to her, stumbling down the mountain and coming back to him, but it never is. It’s just a soldier walking between tents. Every howl of wind is her screaming in the cold, far away and unreachable. Every shadow is her, reaching for him as she falls. 

“Makes me sick,” Shang overhears. It sounds like Jun. “I can’t believe I had to take orders from a woman. It’s probably her fault we got ambushed in the first place. Women mess everything up. They belong at home, raising their sons.” 

Shang clenches his jaw and feels the rage building inside of him, filling the empty spaces that had been left from his cries of despair. 

“She’s dishonored her entire family line and China,” Jun continues. 

“Jun?” Shang finds himself saying, stepping toward their fire. Jun looks up before standing. Shang has no idea where he’s going with this. He needs this soiled linen pile of a person to be as far away from him as possible. He wasn’t even supposed to still be alive after the suicide mission Shang had sent him on eleven years ago. 

“Sir.”

“Just the man I was looking for. I need to talk to you about a small recon mission. There might have been a mixup in town,” Shang says. Jun nods and steps away from his friends with Shang. 

“A mixup in town?” Jun asks. Shang isn’t actually going to send him into town. He needs him farther. He needs him to vanish, hopefully die, and never reappear. 

“The information we got came from a villager who has probably fled after his message to send us into the mountain early succeeded.” He’s just talking. He barely knows what he’s saying. He can hear the blood rushing in his ears and all he wants to do is punch Jun and keep beating him into the ground. 

When he had heard that Jun had kissed Mulan, he’d been so mad the only thing he could do to keep from hurting him was sending him on a mission that he thought would surely kill him. It hadn’t been until after they’d left and he thought Jun dead that he found out that Mulan had also just lost their first child and would never recover from her leg injuries. He wished he’d taken the punch. Now the sick sack can’t keep his mouth shut about how disgusted he is that he had Mulan as a Captain. Woman or not, she was the best Captain in the Infantry. She was fair and level-headed and she was damn good at her job. He was lucky to have her as a Captain. How dare he.

“Did you know?” Jun asks, snapping Shang’s attention back. They’re still in the trees, a little farther from the last tent and on their way to the horses that are tied. 

“No,” Shang says through clenched teeth. “How could I have known?” One punch is all it would take. One punch and send him on his way and never look at that face ever again. 

“It was obvious, really,” Jun says. Shang chokes and looks at him. How would he have known? Did he see something? “Anyone could have guessed it after she threw herself at me. I mean, I did reject her, quite firmly, but she was so obviously in love with me.” 

Shang doesn’t have time to think about it. His dagger is in his hand and it slashes across Jun’s throat. His lips are still moving, blood spilling from his neck and his mouth. Shang glowers down at him as Jun’s knees buckle and he falls. 

“How dare you,” he says, his voice colder and steadier than he has ever heard it before. “You kissed a woman without thought of consequence and blanched when she rejected you.” Shang stabs him, shoving him over into the ground.

Jun’s lips move like a fish’s, his eyes wide with fear. “Ggnk Gggrrnnk!” 

“She was the best Captain China could have asked for, you low life piece of scum. And she is my wife. Her name is Mulan.” 

Jun grasps for the dagger, but Shang pulls it out, stabbing again and again. He only stops when Jun’s hands fall from Shang’s face and go limp at his sides. Shang sits up, panting. He wipes the blood from his face with the back of his arm and stands. 

He just killed his own soldier. 

His stomach flips and his hand tightens on the dagger before he wipes it clean and returns it to the sheath. He can deal with this. He walks away from Jun’s body, the legs turned at an odd angle beneath him, and goes to the nearest horse. There would be no point in bothering with a saddle, but if they have an extra saddle, people will ask questions and Shang is shutting down. 

Shang saddles the horse and leads it back to Jun, lifting the corpse onto the back. The dead weight is heavy, but the burden of Mulan’s ill feelings and all the disgusting tripe that Jun had been spouting is lifted away. He still doesn’t feel good, but at least he can say he did this for her. He did this for them. Jun’s body is slumped over and Shang pats the horse, allowing it to walk off into the night. He doesn’t stay to watch, turning around to make for his tent to clean the blood from his hands and face. 

He stops before he makes it back to the tent, his eyes landing on the mountain through the trees. Mulan is out there. He left her out there alone with a stab wound and no supplies. He wants to walk back in and find her. If she’s not dead already, she will be soon. It should be him instead. 

In the eyes of his country, he’s an honorable General who is leading his troops back home victorious. In his eyes, he’s lost his honor by leaving her there. He’s lost his heart, soon to be buried under the snow with her. He spared her life, but in doing so, he’s killed her anyway. It could have been quick, but instead she’ll bleed out from ripped stitches, be eaten by the wolves, or freeze to death. 

Shang ducks into his tent and starts cleaning himself off, his eyes unfocused on the wall of the tent to keep himself from looking at the empty bed. His hands are shaking violently enough that he has to stop, sitting back on his heels. He has to shut down or he won’t make it back. 

It’s another day before Shang walks his troops through Sishui and over the bridge to Luoyang. The walk isn’t a long one, but he feels every step. 

“He’s handling it well,” he hears behind him. He is not handling it well. As he walks, he thinks about turning around and walking back up that mountain to find her. He could lie down in the snow and wait for the cold to claim him. He could wait for the wolves. He could wait forever. 

The townspeople are all celebrating around him, but each “Congratulations!” is a knife in his heart. He didn’t win this war. Mulan did and she was punished for it. If he had anything to throw up, he would, but he hasn’t eaten. Xiu tried, but Shang had turned it away. Ling had even come by with some rice, but Shang declined and kept his head down. 

Shang stands where his father could be standing. He stands alone when he could have Captain Fa beside him as the Emperor congratulates and thanks him. He’s numb as he bows to the Emperor. All he can hear as he walks is the marching of his men’s feet that he’s listened to for twelve years. 

Massive double doors open to the room Shang will stay in during the celebrations, and his eyes go immediately to the Eastern facing window. The mountain is framed perfectly by the window. He can see straight to where he left his wife to die. 

“Thank you,” he says distantly. The doors close and Shang is actually alone. Ignoring the aches that beg for the bed and blankets, Shang takes a seat beside the window and looks out. She could make it out. She could come walking out of that mountain pass any second. 

Shang hadn’t wanted to leave her. He didn’t have a choice. If he had decided to bring her back with them after she had been discovered so publicly, they both would have been executed on the front steps where he had just met the Emperor and earned praise. This way, she had a chance of recovery. She could make it out and return home to her family where he could find her later. But she had been stabbed. Her wound was dressed, but was it enough? With the cold of the snow, the loss of her blood, the heartbreak that she must be feeling… Will any of it be enough? 

They had talked about this, of course. It was a whispered conversation in the dark of his tent the first night she had told him her name, her fullest and true self. The night she had brazenly told him just who she was. 

Mulan had asked him if he was sure he could handle it, because he’d told her he could. “You know what that means, right?” she had asked, her chin on his chest where his heart had pounded. He couldn’t answer then. “If they find out about me. About us? You have to deny us. You have to kill me, Shang.” 

He had wanted to tell her no. He had wanted to tell her he would be by her side forever no matter what, but that wasn’t the promise he had made already. He said he could handle the secret and everything that came with it. So he would handle it. He just never thought he would ever have to actually look her in the eye while between following through with the promise and breaking it. 

There had always been this vague idea in the back of his mind that if they were ever caught, it would be one soldier. One soldier who could be silenced easily with an accident, reassignment, or something closer to Jun’s death but without the anger. This wasn’t one soldier. It was never going to be just one soldier. Of course, it had to happen in front of his entire Army. Of course, it had to happen while she was wounded and on a snow-covered mountain. 

After his troops get their parties and get to go home, Shang will be released. He will always have his General status, but he has no home to go to that doesn’t include her. He’ll try to find her and go back to Mt. Song. 

Shang wipes at his tears as they fall. _Mulan._


	28. Chapter 28

“Move out.” 

Mulan doesn’t move, her eyes stuck on the sword in the snow. She can feel Shang walking away. Her heart pounds in her ears, but she still doesn’t move. If she dares to look up right now, there will be nothing stopping her from following him. She doesn’t care if she rips the stitches in her side, she knows she belongs with her men. She belongs at Shang’s side as his wife and his Captain, his wife and his right-hand man. She stares at the sword that was meant to cut through her neck and let her head roll. She only closes her eyes once the soldiers are far away and her tears begin to fall. 

The tent they had thrown up quickly is still behind her, but nothing is left inside. All she has are the clothes she’s not wearing, her bow and arrows, and a sword that was meant to end her life. The anklet of Shang’s hair is heavier than ever as she crawls back to the tent, shivering. 

Without her horse, she can’t make it back to her father’s home. She doesn’t even know where her family’s home is. Not from Mt. Song anyway. She also doubts a warm welcome. She’s disgraced the Fa family. Dishonor in her father’s eyes, but she is not dishonorable. She fought in a war and won. She brought victory to China. She will not hear a single word of dishonor, for she knows better than to listen to them. She has learned and grown too strong to listen to their ignorant labels. They will never know just how much she accomplished. 

Mulan grabs her clothes and pulls them on, shivering just enough to remind her that she’s still alive. She lies down and winces when she tries to curl into a ball to keep warm. They had stitched her up to save her life just long enough to kill her. 

Shang had broken his promise. 

Shang. 

Mulan sobs unexpectedly and chokes on it, covering her face with her sleeve. 

Mulan fades in an out of consciousness, the cold seeping into her skin and resting at the core of her bones. The pain from her wound spreads out at first, reaching out from her abdomen and into her chest. But then it starts to numb out. Her shivering stops, the cold not so bad anymore. Her breath puffs up still, but the clouds that come from her lips are smaller. 

When she closes her eyes, she can see her brothers surrounding her after the tiger attack. She can hear their promise of brotherhood, once spoken under a tree. She can feel Po’s gentle hand against her forehead, Ling’s careful hands redressing her bandages, and Yao’s distant protection and palpable worry. 

She blinks and they’re gone, an empty tent around her again. 

Dreams of Shang pull her eyelids closed again. The heat of his body the first time he helped her to stand when she’d failed to run up the mountain twelve years ago. The last kiss they’d shared just before he’d led everyone into Mt. Song. His voice saying her name. 

Mulan jerks awake and gasps at the pain that comes with the sudden movement. She just needs to rest enough to heal. Then she will walk out of here and go… Where? To her parents? She wonders if she could find Fan Castle and wait for Shang there, but she has never been proper enough to step foot in a palace, let alone now with her injuries and armor. 

Mulan lets out a hollow laugh at the thought of showing up at Fan Castle with nothing but her husband’s name. His mother would faint on the spot. Maybe the potentials his mother had waiting would be there to scoff. But Mulan has his name, his promise, his heart. If she makes it out of here… She won’t make it out of here. But she can dream of going to Fan Castle and finding her husband. 

It’s dark the next time she wakes. Her dreams had been filled with distant shouts, but they didn’t die away with her waking. She sits up a little, hugging an arm around her middle as she strains to hear who is shouting. Shang and their troops should be long gone by now. She can’t make out the words, but more than a couple of men are shouting to each other. 

Mulan crawls back out of the tent, ignoring the shocks of pain. She doesn’t have to look far to see the small fires dotting the distance where the avalanche had taken out their enemy. Or so they had thought. There’s clearly not as many as there once were, but judging from the three or five fires she can see, there’s some left and she knows just where they’re headed. 

“No,” she breathes. She has to move quickly if she’s going to get to the palace before they do. She has to tell Shang. Mulan grits her teeth and groans as she fastens her bow, arrows, and sword onto the armor she’d managed to strap on to keep warm. 

When she stands, the world spins for a moment and she steadies herself quickly before she has time to tip. There’s no point in trying to bring the tent. Her armor and weapons are already too heavy for her to carry in this state, but she has to. 

With no supplies, Mulan can’t make a torch, but even if she could, the enemy is close enough to see a moving flame out in the cold darkness. She has to move in the cover of night with her limp and fresh wound. It will be a slower trek down the mountain and the last time she had been awake she had been sure she was going to die in her sleep, but she has to warn Shang. She has to make sure the Emperor is safe. She has to save China if it’s the last thing she does. 

Shang and his men probably made it to the base of the mountain in a few hours just as it had been coming in. They could be camping for the night in the forest, or perhaps they’re in town. They could have even tried pushing to Luoyang if they were fast enough. In the dark, it will take considerably longer. To remain undetected and quiet, even longer. With the world tilting, fading in and out, pain striking through her, and the cold chilling her blood, she might not make it at all. 

Mulan staggers into an icy wall and pants, pressing a hand to her side as she shuts her eyes against the pain. When she’s rested long enough to barely ease the pain, she steps away from the mountainside and almost falls. 

“Just once, work,” she begs her leg that has left her with a limp for far too long. Without Magu and a cane, her foot sometimes drags. Her own lame gait reminds her of her father, trying to walk across the floor of their house to prove he could do without a cane and fight in the war. She remembers him falling, crying out in the privacy of his training room as she watched. She cries out as he had as she falls into the snow. 

When she tries to lift herself, her arms shake and she collapses back down. The snow freezes her cheek. Her arrows had spilled when she fell. Mulan reaches the arrow she will never shoot: the arrow she retrieved back in training. 

“ _These weights represent strength and discipline. You’ll need both to reach the arrow,”_ Shang had once called out. Mulan grits her teeth and half-crawls, half-drags herself through the snow. Her arms are doing all the work, her abdomen screaming with pain and her leg too fatigued to even try. Her fingers stretch out toward it like they had that morning. Strength and discipline. She pushes herself forward and sighs, letting her face fall back into the snow when her fingers close around the arrow. 

She imagines herself falling from the top of the pole, the arrow clutched tight in her fist. There are cheers below her as the air whips her hair. They are the cheers from the day she’d grabbed the arrow mixed with the cheers when they had thought she had killed their entire enemy with an avalanche. 

“ _A woman!”_ joins the cheers and suddenly it’s dead silent. The men step away. Shang reaches out but he’s too far. 

Mulan gasps as she hits the ground, but she’s still lying in the snow on Mt. Song. She’s soaked through which tells her that it rained in the night and she hadn’t even noticed. The sun has come up and her arrow is still in her grip. She forces herself up and grabs the rest of the arrows before checking that she’s alone. The enemy either hasn’t woken or they’re moving slowly too, still trying to pull their men from the snow. 

She’s actually closer to the bottom of the mountain than she thought. In the dark, it had felt like she’d only taken a few steps. She’d almost made it to the bottom, the trees that spill out at the base only a short walk. Mulan stumbles down until she hits the first tree, pressing against it to catch her breath and reorient herself. 

Through the forest is the clearing and a path to that village. Through the village is the bridge that leads to the palace. She sags against the tree instead of pushing off of it. It’s a short walk, but her side feels like it’s splitting open. She can’t rake in enough breath. She’s so cold. She wants to sleep. 

The sound of hooves makes her perk up. She peers through the green and sees a single horse with a slumped rider. She calls to the horse that she recognizes from the stables where Magu would rest. The trotting slows to a walk as he approaches. 

She knows the rider. Jun is the slumped rider, his legs limp and his body folded forward. He doesn’t look alive. “Jun?” Her voice comes out weak, tired. She reaches up and winces but when she touches him, he’s cold. She pulls him from the horse and finds the front of his shirt soaked in red, an angry slash across his throat. His eyes are still open, glassy and vacant. 

“Oh.” She gags and covers her mouth, stepping away. She’s seen dead bodies. She’s killed and buried enemies, friends, and civilians. Those were acts of war. This was an act of grief. She doesn’t know for sure, but something in the random stabs tells her Shang finally snapped, unable to cope with whatever rash thing Jun had decided to say. Maybe he deserved it, but his wife didn’t. Though, she didn’t deserve to have him do or say the things he had during his time in the war. The things she would never know about. “I’m sorry,” she says, closing his eyes with one hand and covering her nose and mouth with her other. 

With great effort, Mulan mounts the horse that Jun had been sent away on. By the time she’s up, her side is in agony and the edges of her vision are going black. One slumped rider substituted for another, Mulan sags and heads for the village. 

At her family’s home, there is a shrine for her ancestors. Their names are etched in stone. There is a pillow and a place for incense to burn during prayer. In front of the largest stone, the incense burns out and Mulan wonders if it’s her. 

The etched writing on the stone shines with a ghostly light as the smoke trails up from the burned-out flame. She watches as apparitions of her ancestors appear one by one, transparent and glowing with the same light as the stone. They worry and fight over her, discussing the dishonor, the family traditions crumbling under her boots. They discuss how they could possibly help her. 

“We’ll send the Great Stone Dragon,” they all agree solemnly.

“We can’t,” one says. Mulan wonders why but she can’t voice her concern. She can only watch as she dies. “She is no longer a Fa. We cannot help her.” 

“She’s dying!”  
  
“Wake up the Great Stone Dragon!” 

_“Wake up!”_

Mulan gasps and opens her eyes. She’s on a bed in a house. A woman kneels beside her with a basin of warm water and a wet cloth. She looks relieved and smiles at Mulan before calling out, “He’s awake!”

A man, presumably her husband, walks into the room and takes the space beside his wife. “We found you and your horse. The steed is in our stable resting and eating. We didn’t know if you would make it, Captain.” 

“Where am I?” Her voice is just a rasp and the woman immediately offers a cup of tea. Mulan takes it, drinking it too fast, relieved to feel the warmth flood her.

“Sishui Village.” He introduces himself and his wife but their names disintegrate like a page in a fire. Mulan watches her tea be refilled and takes another drink, unable to slow her parched gulps. “The rest of the Army passed through town this morning.”

“They think I’m dead,” Mulan says, lying back again. “I was injured.” There’s not much more to say. “I need to find them.” 

“You need to rest. You can stay here for the night and join them in the city for the celebrations! You won!” They both congratulate her and she wants to hide. She hasn’t won anything. “My wife will tend to you. You are free to stay in this bed. We have fresh night clothes for you to borrow if you would like. She will make dinner soon and you are welcome to much of that. We cannot thank you enough for saving China.” They bow and Mulan winces. 

The man stands and bows again before saying, “You are also welcome to my wife while you stay, Captain.”

Mulan looks quickly to the woman who seems unfazed. Neither of them say anything for a few moments and then she watches as the other woman goes to the wardrobe and grabs the sleepwear that her husband had mentioned. It looks fresh and clean and warm. 

“You can change and I will wash your clothes while you rest,” she says. She bows before leaving the room. Mulan looks around but can’t take anything in. The room is decorated, but she can’t focus on the tapestries or plants. It’s a lovely room and she does need to rest, but everything in her wants her to go immediately. If she hadn’t just fainted on a horse and been revived in a stranger’s home, she might have actually decided to continue on her way to find the Emperor before the enemy. 

Instead, Mulan carefully peels her armor and clothes off before wrapping herself in the warm embrace of the clean linen. She’s bled through her bandage, but it’s better than if it wasn’t stitched at all. She lays down, exhausted just from changing, and finally lets herself rest. 

She only wakes twice. The woman had brought her dinner, which she had scarfed down just as fast as she had during training. The second time was when the woman returned, probably sent by her husband to _comfort_ the wounded Captain. 

“You’re lovely, but I don’t want that,” Mulan says quietly. “Can you just hold me for a moment?” She doesn’t know why she asks for that, but once the words are out there she knows she needs it. 

“Of course.” Mulan feels her crawl into the bed and curl against her. She turns her face into the woman’s shoulder, hugging her tight as she lets out a sob. “It’s alright,” the woman soothes quietly, stroking Mulan’s hair in a way that reminds Mulan of her own mother. She’s back to being a child in her mother’s arms as she cries. “You’re safe now.” 

The next morning, Mulan pulls herself out of the woman’s sleeping embrace and quickly changes into her washed clothes and armor. She can’t stay for more tea or another meal. She has to warn the Emperor of their failure on the mountain. She has to kill the remaining enemies, picking them off with her bow if she needs to. 

“Thank you,” she whispers at the doorway before going to their stables and grabbing the horse she rode in on. She groans as she mounts, her side reminding her that a single night of rest will not heal stab wounds. 

“Please be soon enough,” she prays as she heads in the direction of the bridge that will bring her to Luoyang. “Please.” 


	29. Chapter 29

Shang wakes up late. It’s the first time in a long time that he’s woken up this late. He’s probably missed any kind of breakfast. Not that he’s even hungry. The sun is already streaming through the window, spilling onto the bed where he’s sprawled beneath fine blankets. He groans and sits up, overly aware of his stiff joints and scrapes from slipping in the ice. 

The battle had been rough. A snowy mountain is no place for a proper fight, but it was a chance they had to take. It had been difficult to see, but they managed. Horses and soldiers alike were slipping in the snow. His body hadn’t been able to rest long enough to register the fatigue until last night when he had finally gone to bed, the night too black to see the mountain. 

Shang stretches and considers walking away from all of it. There’s a week of festivities planned and he doesn’t have his heart in it. He’s numb. When the wind blows, he hears Mulan’s sighs. A shadow on the floor is hers. He’d dreamed of her all night, and none of it did anything to mend his broken heart. 

When he pulls on his clothes, Shang takes a deep breath and sizes up the doors. He could walk through them and put on a brave face. The face of someone who didn’t lose his wife. The face of someone who didn’t murder one of his soldiers. The face of a General who isn’t crumbling to dust. Before he can think of another option, the option that would let him remain isolated, there’s a knock. 

“Messenger for General Li,” a voice calls through the door. 

Shang opens the door and stands tall, jaw set, putting on the face of the General to cover the face of the defeated. “Yes?” 

“There is a messenger here to speak with you. Come with me.” 

Shang follows the nameless, faceless palace servant to the room deemed acceptable for him to receive messages or discuss anything at all. It’s the same room where he had confirmed with too many people that the war was over, their enemy lying dead on Mt. Song. 

The servant opens the doors for Shang and he steps in, fully ready to receive some message from his mother of congratulations and potential matches. She hasn’t given up even though he’s halfway through his thirties and has never responded to her letters with anything other than a firm no. 

Shang lifts his eyes to the messenger and feels his heart stop. Mulan. She’s leaning against a wall, her hair still down, tangled and far more wild than Shang has ever seen it. She’s pale and has scrapes that are probably from falling in the ice and snow. 

“Leave us,” Shang says, his voice barely audible. The doors close, but he barely registers it as he crosses the room to his wife and pulls her against him. 

“Shang.” Her arms are tight around him. He doesn’t think she’ll ever let go. He certainly doesn’t have plans to. He only pulls away enough to kiss her, their lips fitting together perfectly. Tenderly they touch in apologies and forgiveness. “We’re not done,” she says suddenly, breaking away from him and wincing. 

“What?”

“We killed most of them, Shang, but there were survivors and they’re coming here. I know they’re coming here. We have to protect the Emperor. We have to save China.” Mulan’s hands are cold and they’re gripping his as if he’s a lifeline of heat. Her eyes are pleading and her voice is determined, but he watched the avalanche swallow them whole. Those that made it out were killed. He was there. There were no survivors. 

“Mulan..” He looks over his shoulder at the doors. He can get away with bringing her to his room, can’t he? Will anyone bother saying anything? A palace has more secrets than anywhere else. They’d be safe going to his room. “You’re still hurt. You need to rest.” 

“I can rest when I’m dead,” she says with much more ferocity than he expected of her when she looks so worn down and weak. “Everyone is in danger. You have to believe me.” 

“I believe you,” he lies. “There’s nothing we can do yet. Just please, come with me.” 

“I’m doing this with or without you. Are you with me?” Her grip tightens and Shang nods. The worst that happens is she’s been tricked by hallucinations and they end up waiting for ghosts. 

“What’s your plan?” he asks and she smiles, relief allowing her shoulders to relax. 

Mulan closes her eyes and turns her head to the side when he pulls the soaked bandage away from her stomach. Most of the stitches have ripped, but nothing looks inflamed or infected as far as Shang can tell. He’s careful as he washes the blood from her pale skin. If it hurts, she doesn’t make a sound to let him know. She stays still even when he starts to restitch her wound with supplies brought to his door by a servant. 

“Thank you,” she says softly as he secures a fresh cloth over her middle. He kisses her forehead and her arms wind around him, holding him there. 

“You should try to rest. I’ll go…” She wants him to recruit the others. She wants the entire Army to fight against a ghost enemy. He can’t let any of them even know she’s here, let alone alive. He swallows. “I’ll tell the others.” 

She nods, reluctantly letting him go and laying back into the blankets of his bed. He runs his thumb over her cheek before pressing a gentle kiss to her lips and leaving her there to sleep away the horrors of the past few days. 

When he leaves the room, the only thing he knows for sure is that he’s not going to tell anyone what’s going on. He saw the enemy die. He killed some of the stragglers with his men. He knows they’re dead. They have to be. Right? Unless she’s right… Unless she wasn’t hallucinating… 

Shang shakes his head and follows his stomach to go find food, his appetite suddenly returned with his wife. She must be starving too. He can grab them some food to share in his room and hopefully let her recover there before leaving to go start their life outside of the war together.

“Shang?” Xiu is relaxing in the dining area, a concubine draped over his lap and eating from his fingers. “Finally awake?”

“Yeah.” He goes to grab a bowl of rice. “I guess I was tired…” 

“And starved,” Xiu points out when Shang starts grabbing more food to bring back to Mulan. “I suppose that makes sense with you refusing to eat after…” He waves his hand vaguely like he also doesn’t want to think about it. “How are you feeling?”

“I need to rest for another dynasty before I’m ready for anything else,” Shang laughs without humor. 

“You can take her to relax if you want. She really is very good,” Xiu says, gesturing to the woman in his arms. She smiles prettily and Shang shakes his head. “Suit yourself.”

Shang turns away and starts on his way back to his room where Mulan is hopefully sleeping. No one bothers stopping him or questioning why he’s bringing an entire feast back to his room. No one cares and anyone lower ranked than a Captain is outside. From the sounds of it, most of them have been drinking to celebrate a win that Mulan is convinced didn’t happen. 

Shang pushes his door open and drops the tray of food when he sees that Mulan is gone. Her armor, bow, arrows, sword… They’re all gone. The only evidence that she was here at all is her old bandages on the tray he’d been brought for the sutures. 

His feet are quick as he begins his search. She probably went straight for her brothers, but they’re all in the mess of tents and drunken soldiers outside. He shoves the doors to the palace open and goes quickly down the steps. 

“Morning, General!” someone calls. He nods in acknowledgment but doesn’t break his pace. He has to wade through a sea of men to find the three that Mulan is probably seeking out. 

“I’m with you, brother,” Yao’s unmistakable voice says a few tents away. 

“I’m not. I don’t even know who you are. How can you be my brother if I don’t even know your name?” 

“You know me, Ling. I’m still your brother. I’m still me even if my name is not Ping,” Mulan says. The words are pleading but her voice is too strong and determined for it to come off that way. “You don’t have to accept me anyway. You have to know we’re in danger and we have to save all of the people here.”

“I’m not going with a liar,” Ling says harshly. Shang turns the corner in time to see Yao punch Ling across the cheek. Ling reels and grabs his face. Shang stays still to watch what will happen. If they’ll believe her and go. 

“She is our brother and she needs our help. We all made a vow and we will never know how hard it was to be in her position so either sit here and remain the traitor to your oath or remember where your loyalty lies and help us,” Yao says, his fists still tight. 

“Let’s go,” Mulan says, turning away and disappearing into the maze of tents. Yao follows her without hesitation. Shang stays where he is to see if Po and Ling will go before he attempts to follow them. 

“I’m sorry. She needs us,” Po says with a half-frown. He hesitates and kisses Ling’s hurt cheek before leaving him there, going after the other two. Ling makes a small sound before huffing and running after them too. 

Shang wonders how long she’ll wait, ready for battle with her brothers as her only backup before she gives up the idea that anyone is coming to attack. He wonders how soon it will be before she proves him wrong and the city will be attacked, catching him unaware because he refuses to believe that after everything they just went through, they still failed. 

It doesn’t take him long to catch up and Mulan’s eyes connect with his. She nods and he returns it. He’s here for her always and she knows it. They’re still working their way back to the palace when they hear screaming. Shang’s stomach drops, but Mulan only draws her sword like it’s the fight she was expecting. Because it is. 

Shang spots the leader who had stabbed Mulan on the mountain. He has the advisor with him, his sword at the sniveling man’s throat as they walk through the doors of the palace. The heavy doors close and Shang curses under his breath. 

“They’re going to have those doors guarded,” Shang says. 

“I know another way in,” Mulan says without even a moment of hesitation. She’s focused on the scene, deciding what has to happen first. “Kill them,” she orders, pointing to the few who are dragging a few women from the city toward the stairs. Yao and Ling advance together while Mulan leads Po and Shang around the front. 

“I’m sorry,” Po says quietly.

“Sh. None of that now,” Mulan says before she looks up at him. “I forgive you.” 

Shang follows Mulan around to where the servant’s entrances are. He doesn’t even know how she knows where they are. He certainly didn’t. She whispers something to a servant whose eyes widen before she nods quickly and runs off. 

As they make their way in, Shang watches as the servants pour out, fleeing the castle and heeding Mulan’s warning. The three of them keep their swords drawn, ready to attack or defend. He remembers when Fan Castle had been under attack and his father had done much the same, only he was fighting people he thought were on his side. The castle had been filled with shouts and metal clanging as the civil war had raged within his home. He had wanted to pick up a sword and help back then. He’ll have to settle for it now, saving the Emperor from an enemy in _his_ home. 

The guards at the main entrance of the palace are dead and crumpled on the floor beside their posts, blood leaking across the floor. They’ve been replaced by brutes, their spears crimson and wet. They scowl and huff, stepping into a fighting stance as Mulan, Shang, and Po approach. It’s a fast fight. Three against two. Swords against spears. 

Po snaps one of the spears before slamming the man’s head into the heavy door. Shang drives his sword through the ribs of the dizzy opponent as Po’s sword enters the stomach. When they turn to Mulan, she’s pulling her sword free from a man’s skull where she had stabbed upward through his jaw. 

Mulan wrenches open the front door and calls for Yao and Ling. They must have been waiting because they appear only a moment later, falling into line behind her. Right now, they are her soldiers as he is. The four of them follow her into this battle as if she were the General. There is no pause for questions because everyone in her army of four trusts her to make the right decisions. 

When they make it to the corridor that leads to the balcony for the Emperor’s appearances, it’s clear exactly where they’ve taken the Emperor. Instead of the one or two enemies placed throughout the palace that they had taken out along their way, there are five men surrounding one door. 

Mulan signals for Shang to hang back as she and her brothers advance. He watches, grip tight on his sword, jaw clenched with anxiety as they fight. Po takes two of the guard’s heads and slams them into each other. There’s a loud crack as they grunt and fall to the floor. Ling and Yao each have one guard handled. Yao with his fists, Ling with a dagger, playing to their strengths. Mulan grabs the bow from her own opponent after knocking him off his feet and pulls the limb of the bow against his neck, cutting off his air. 

“Shang, go!” she orders as more enemies arrive. Shang runs past her and throws open the doors to run up the stairs. Behind him, he hears more fighting.

“I tire of your arrogance, old man. Bow to me!” Shang hears as he makes his way up the stairs. 

“No matter how the wind howls, a mountain cannot bow to it.”

“Then you will kneel in pieces!” 

Shang arrives at the top of the stairs to find his enemy with his sword raised and the Emperor standing still. He shoves the Emperor out of the way as the sword comes down, only blocked by Shang’s own weapon. He pushes back against the force until the blades slip and their stances are forced to change. 

Shang takes the opportunity and kicks him square in the chest, sending him reeling back into a pole. Where are the others? He starts to bring his sword down and has his wrists grabbed. Shang struggles for a moment before realizing he’s being thrown off the roof and uses all of his strength to swing his legs back over onto the balcony. There’s a collective gasp from the viewing party below but he ignores it, slamming his feet into his opponent again before they both fall back to the floor. 

Both of their swords have been dropped, so when Shang runs over, he fights with his fists. He keeps punching as he’s flipped onto his back and pinned there, a retaliating punch hitting him in the chest. Shang reaches up, his hand tightening around his throat. 

The man grunts, but Shang has his airflow cut off. Shang flips them again and keeps him pinned as he hears Mulan and her brothers run up the stairs behind him. 

“Po, get the Emperor!” she orders. 

“No!” Shang’s enemy snarls, shoving Shang away from him. He drags in a ragged breath before grabbing Shang by the shoulders and slamming his forehead into Shang’s. Pain bursts behind his eyes and stars dance in his vision before— 


	30. Chapter 30

Yao and Ling lead Po down a rope to escape the balcony. The Emperor is safe with them, but when Mulan turns back to Shang, he’s sagging in the other man’s angry grip. Shang’s head lolls and she feels her heart leap into her throat just before she watches her husband get tossed onto the floor like a bag of wool. 

Her eyes drag up from Shang to the last man standing. If she kills him, the war is really over. If she kills him, she saves China. Between her and the man she is about to kill is the sword he had stabbed her with only a few days ago. She grabs it before he can make a move for it and she cuts the line that would have taken him back to the Emperor. 

He lunges for the falling rope, yelling as he does. Mulan dodges and falls to the floor beside Shang, wrapping an arm around her middle and sucking in a harsh breath. Shang blinks a few times and focuses on her face. 

“Mulan!” he tries to warn her just as he comes to, but she feels the punch across her jaw and goes reeling backward. 

Sitting up, she sees Shang grab his dagger as their final enemy advances on him. He’s nowhere near ready to resume battle. That much is made obvious when a simple slap makes him drop the blade. Mulan draws her bow and pulls an arrow.

“You took away my victory,” the man says after punching Shang. 

“No.” Mulan shoots and the arrow embeds itself in his palm, making him lose his grip on Shang. Both of them look at her but her gaze remains unwaveringly on the last man she ever hopes to kill. “I did.”

“Who are you?” he snarls, ripping the arrow from his hand. 

“I’m your worst nightmare,” she snarls back, standing tall and pulling her hair away from her face. 

“The soldier from the mountain.” The way he says it tells her that she has been haunting his every moment since he and his men were buried in the snow. He shoves Shang down out of his way to get to her. She can’t run, but she makes her way quickly back down the steps from which she had come earlier. 

Slamming the door behind her, she shoves one of the bodies of the enemy guards as a door stopper before continuing through the halls. She needs a vantage point and she needs to keep leading him away from Shang and the Emperor. She hears the door crash behind her but she doesn’t pause to turn around. 

Mulan can hear his footsteps gaining on hers even as she pushes herself, one leg starting to drag a little, away as fast as she can. There are poles she keeps running past and she skids to a halt at the base of one. Eyes on the prize, she keeps her eyes at the top of the pole instead of daring to check if he’s caught up. Strength and discipline. She can do this. She wraps her legs and arms around the pole and grunts before making her way up much quicker than she would have thought possible under her many circumstances. 

She hears her enemy shout below her and finally looks down. He has his sword back. She doesn’t remember dropping it, but she must have. He slams the blade into the pole and makes a deep cut. She winces and tightens her grip as the pole shakes. He rams his entire body into the pole. And again. It only takes the three two strikes to send the pole tilting, the wood snapping under her. It crashes through the wall and her with it. 

There are screams below her as she dangles. The outside air is cool against her cheek. She feels either sweat or blood running down the side of her face. She has a feeling it might be both after falling through a wall, but she ignores it, focusing instead on swinging herself back up to standing on the pole. 

The edge of the pagoda roof isn’t far if she can manage the jump. With her leg, it would be a literal leap of faith. She looks between her advancing opponent and her way up to the roof. She can do this. She takes a deep breath and jumps up. She reaches, her heart pounding in her chest and making that jump feel like it lasts hours instead of a single blink. Her hands grip the edge and she pulls herself up quickly. 

“Come on,” she dares him under her breath, drawing her bow. The wind is higher on the roof, her hair whipping. She can feel that she ripped her stitches, but the climactic excitement of the moment keeps her on her feet. 

The roof bursts, a hole opening in front of her. The leader of the enemy pulls himself up and it’s just them. It feels quiet and still though they are both panting, unspoken threats remaining in their stances, their eyes, the beating of their hearts. Her lip curls as she raises her bow and shoots an arrow. The sharpened point drags across his hand and up his arm, a red line following, but he doesn’t drop his sword. 

She only has one arrow left and it’s one she promised herself she would never shoot. The arrow she’d retrieved. Shang’s arrow. She grips it, sending a prayer to her ancestors, and lets out a breath as she leaves the arrow in its sheath. 

The final enemy lunges with his sword and she uses her bow to trap the blade, twisting sharply and kicking upward into his trapped arm. There’s a snap and his hand releases the sword, his elbow breaking under the pressure. He shouts, but there is no sympathy. He may be a man, someone who lives and breathes and feels, but he’s a man who has been waging war on China for twelve years. He’s a man who has burned villages, raped women, killed countless innocents and soldiers alike. She can feel the weight of the little girl from the first village she’d found. She can see Shang’s pain after losing his father. She remembers her tears as she had decided to go to war in place of her father. 

Mulan takes the sword and plunges it into his heart with all of the rage she has felt since being told to hold her tongue as she’d stood between her father and the Emperor’s Advisor. She hears him gasp and twists it, gritting her teeth and letting out a scream of victory and pain as he falls back through the hole in the roof. 

Mulan secures the sword of her fallen enemy to her hip and returns her bow to her back before dropping back down off the roof and into the palace. The cheers outside are drowned out by the deathly silence of the palace. Bodies litter the hallways. She walks slowly, making her way back out. There is no other movement besides her steady limp. Each step seems to echo in her ears. Her heart is racing. She has saved China. 

“Mulan!” Shang runs to her as she steps out of the front doors, the blood from the guards on her shoes. “You did it!” 

“I did it.” She grins and throws her arms around Shang despite the pain. He holds her close for a moment before he clears his throat and backs away from her. She follows his gaze and immediately drops into a bow before the Emperor. 

“I have heard a great deal about you, Fa  _ Ping _ ,” he says. She winces. “You stole your father’s armor. You ran away from home. You impersonated a soldier. A Captain, even. You deceived your commanding General. You dishonored the Chinese Army. You destroyed my palace. And you have saved us all.” 

At this, Mulan suddenly looks up. She raises herself to full standing as she faces The Emperor of China, their eyes meeting. He takes a breath before lowering himself into a bow. This is the highest sign of respect and honor. Mulan is surprised that she doesn’t have to force her breathing to remain even. She hears gasps as everyone takes their cues, and when Mulan turns, Shang, the soldiers of China’s Imperial Army, and the citizens that are in Luoyang are all on their knees, their foreheads nearly touching the floor as their palms lie flat on the ground in front of them. All of China is bowing to her; a woman in men’s armor, broken, bleeding, and victorious. 

When the Emperor rises again, Mulan looks up at him and waits. He’s older than she thought he would be, his hair white and face weathered. She can feel the eyes of thousands upon her back. 

“Take this,” the Emperor says, removing a medallion from his neck. She stays still as he lowers the necklace over her head, allowing the medallion to rest on her chest. “So your family will know what you have done for me.” 

Mulan bows again before removing the sword at her waist, holding it out to her Emperor. His hands grip it, but he doesn’t take it. “Take it,” he says earnestly, “so the world will know what you have done for China.” 

“Thank you, your excellency,” Mulan says, bowing her head before returning the sword to her waist.

“Thank  _ you _ , Captain Fa.” 

It’s after the cheering and after the Emperor has returned to his quarters that Mulan staggers and feels Shang catch her. He loops his arm around her, taking most of her weight as he helps her back inside. She’s vaguely aware of the fact that the servants had returned and the bodies, as well as the blood, are being cleaned away quickly. 

They make it to his room undisturbed and fairly quickly. He’s as gentle as he’s ever been when she lies her down on the bed and pulls away her armor. “You need to stop tearing these,” Shang says and she smiles. 

“Why would I ever stop when I have such a good healer?” she asks with a small laugh that makes her instantly regret it. Shang grabs his tray of tools and sits on the edge of the bed, his brow creased with worry. “I’m alright,” she promises him softly, reaching up so her fingers can run down his cheek. 

“You had better be,” he says seriously. There’s a lot of things unspoken, but he doesn’t have to say them. They were both wrecked after being torn apart on the mountain. Neither of them thought she would make it. “Ready?” She nods and closes her eyes as he begins pulling out the remains of the old stitching so he can thread her back together again like a broken doll. 

“I need to see my father,” Mulan says when he’s halfway done. Shang pauses and she opens her eyes to look at him. 

“Where do they live?” he asks. She can see him already drawing a map in his mind to figure out how to get her there. 

“Near Mt. Hengshanxi. I don’t know how to get there from here.” She never thought she would travel as much as she has. A woman’s life is spent in her home, not marching across the lands, mountains in the distance, trees all around her. She had been able to keep track of where her home was in relation to the training camp and a few steps beyond it, but she lost track sometime within the first year away and she had forced herself not to dwell on it. 

“That’s not far from here,” Shang says. “We can be there in two days if the boats are functional.”

Two days? She had thought she was much farther. She thought perhaps they were on the other side of China. She closes her eyes again and feels Shang resume his work on her wound. Two days and she can return to her father and present him with her honorable gifts from the Emperor. 

“I do need you to eat and sleep before we leave.” There’s a hint of a small threat. She glances over his shoulder at the food on the floor by the door. “Yes, that was for you before you ran off to go save China.” 

“But now China has been saved. Now I can rest.” 

He finishes patching her up and helps her remove the rest of her armor as she settles into the pillows. Everything is soft and comforting and Shang’s lips on her forehead are the best of it all. Her eyelids are heavy and now that she’s resting and patched up, she feels well enough to sleep. 

“I love you, Mulan,” Shang whispers into her hair, pressing another kiss to the top of her head. 

“I love you, Shang,” she answers sleepily. 

Mulan wakes to the sound of fireworks. She thought they were cannons and woke up with her heart slamming in her chest. She reminds herself that the war is over. She ended the war. She sighs heavily, forcing herself to calm. 

“Me too,” Shang says, getting up from where he had been sitting with some food. “You would think there would be a better way to celebrate the end of the war.” He settles beside her, a plate of food resting on his leg. His armor is gone and his hair hangs loose. He looks as if he’s just woken up too. 

Mulan takes a piece of fruit from the tray. It’s a delicacy. Fruit isn’t something that travels well, so it had been rare that they were able to eat it at all. Now there is a platter full of it, ready to be consumed by palace guests. 

“We should leave when everyone goes to bed.” Shang moves so he’s stretched out on the bed next to her and she snuggles close to him. 

“Can we take Magu?” she asks. She still feels weak, but she agrees. They shouldn’t stay here any longer. The celebrations could take a week and even though the Emperor thanked her, the praise of being a woman in war won’t last. Beyond that, she needs to bring her father the sword and the medallion. She took his name to battle and she brought honor to her family. They don’t even know she’s alive. Once she has presented her father with the honors from the Emperor, she will introduce her husband. 

Once, she had dreamed of a proper wedding after the war. That was a very long time ago. She no longer has those stars in her eyes. She’s been married for over a decade. A wedding now seems late and it would be unable to hold the amount of love she feels for him. It doesn’t matter anyway. Her parents as well as his could try to refuse them this, but neither of them would hear it. 

“Magu is in the stables. I’ll get him ready before I come back to get you when he’s ready.” Shang takes a piece of fruit from the tray and takes a bite. 

“We’re leaving tonight,” Mulan says. It’s finally hitting her. The war is over. They can be together. She is going to see her mother and father again after twelve years and she’s going to share her victory with them. She will meet Shang’s mother and possibly his sisters. The war is over. The war is over. “It’s over.”

“It’s over,” he answers just as breathlessly. 

She drops her food back onto the plate and sits up a little, turning to look at him. “Shang, it’s over!” He grins and drops his food too, his hand going to cup her jaw instead as he pulls her in for a kiss. 

His lips are sweet and they part for her immediately. She reaches up into his hair and presses against him as she licks the fruit juice from his lips and tries not to laugh from giddiness. He’s smiling too though which one would think would make the kiss awkward, but it’s just bubbling with happiness. 

Their giggles die down again, replaced with much deeper kisses, her lip getting nibbled, his tongue getting sucked, their breaths coming quicker as they press and pull. She pulls his shirt off, shoving it off of his broad shoulders as he unties her shirt and leaves it open. His kisses are searing her skin when they meet with her neck. She closes her eyes and lets her head fall back, her hands finding his so their fingers can lace together. 

His mouth returns to hers. The heat from his chest warms hers, but he’s careful not to press into her. He’s always careful. She lets go of his hands to caress his chest. He responds by running one of his hands down her good side and gripping her hip when he gets there. 

Both of them are overly aware that not much can happen beyond this, but she’s okay with that right now. Neither of them make a move for their pants or bring it up. Making out heavily shirtless will do just fine. 

A knock at the door interrupts and Shang groans, bowing his head into her chest and quietly begging for whoever it is to go away. Mulan laughs and kisses the top of his head. 

“Shang?” a voice calls. Mulan pulls her shirt back and ties it as Shang reluctantly gets off the bed. He shrugs on his shirt but doesn’t bother with the tie as he goes to the door and opens it just a little. 

“What’s wrong?” Shang asks. 

“Why should something be wrong?” Xiu answers. “She lived! Did you see her? She lived! Of course, you saw her. You were there, but— How are you?” 

“I would be better if I wasn’t standing in the doorway talking to you,” Shang jokes. 

“Did you talk to her?” Xiu pries. Mulan bites her lip to keep from calling out to tell him to go away in the nicest way possible. 

“I’ll explain everything at Fan Castle, alright? Just be there in two weeks time when I arrive to speak with Mother.” 

“Alright. Two weeks,” Xiu says hesitantly before a brief goodbye. The door closes again and the plans for the stealthy departure begin. 


	31. Chapter 31

The city falls asleep fairly quickly. The excitement from the day mixed with the wine is a combination that works swiftly enough. At the stables, Shang finds the horse he’d sent Jun off on. Mulan must have found him and taken the horse. He swallows and ignores the stab of guilt before turning away and readying Magu. With no one awake, Shang has to answer to no one when he leads Magu to the front of the palace for a quick escape. 

Mulan is ready, but she can’t push herself any more than she already has. She waits as he had told her to, sitting on the edge of the bed with her armor on. She smiles when he enters the room. Shang rushes to her before she can stand so he can scoop her into his arms and keep her feet from the floor. Her laugh is worth everything. 

“I can walk,” she argues without any fight behind her words. She loops her arms around his shoulders and kisses his cheek. 

“What a coincidence. I can too.” He smiles back and turns his face to steal a kiss before leaving the room. They stay quiet as he carries her through the palace and down the stairs. He looks at her as they descend and watches her eyes scan the sea of tents that are still propped up to house the soldiers. 

“Goodbye, brothers,” she whispers. He feels her heart crack but she looks away, down the stairs to her beloved horse. 

Shang lifts her onto the back of Magu and watches her wince. She’s still pale and injured, wilted in her seat. Shang mounts behind her, Mulan leaning into his chest a little as he takes the reins. With a gentle nudge of his heel, Magu starts to walk out of the city. 

Once they make it out of the city and onto the dirt road that will bring them to the ports, Mulan runs her thumb over his on the reins like she’s thinking deeply about something. He nudges her in silent question. 

“Maybe we should just go to Fan Castle,” she whispers. She doesn’t move, but he can still somehow feel her shrinking into him. 

“They still love you,” he says gently. She nods but stays quiet. 

They ride in silence again. Instead of feeling her busy mind mulling more over, he feels her fall asleep against his chest, her head slipping to one shoulder. With his arms already around her, she’s safe from potentially falling. She’s safe. He lets out a breath he’d been holding since she’d fallen from her horse on the mountain. 

Once, Shang had been naive enough to believe that the worst he would feel would be after the tiger had attacked. He had woken in his tent without her there with only memories of her hand gripping his and his name being called. Those first nights, recovering alone in agony while he wondered if she and their first child had made it, were some of the worst of his life. Now, their painful memory is surpassed by the night he had walked away from her in the snow. 

Shang swallows and hugs Mulan closer to him to rid the memories, forcing himself back into the present where they are free from the war. They are nothing more than a husband and wife traveling to visit her parents. He kisses the top of her head and smiles when she sighs happily in her sleep. 

The stars stretch out before him, unhindered by landscapes of dirt paths, trees, mountains, or villages as he is. The stars prick the darkness with light that comes from somewhere beyond. Mulan has always liked traveling at night, though he’d never understood it. Night was when he would get a break in a tent or in his room. Night was when the air was filled with the thousands of snores of exhausted men. But night was something else to her. The stars were her confidants. They had witnessed her distressed tears, her powerful first strides away from home, her lonely months outside of her tent, and her private practice sessions. The stars told her stories and she told them back by simply being awake during the sleeping hours and pushing to reach camp, spar a wooden pole, unbind her constricted chest, reaching an arrow in a pole, professing her undying love. Her stories should be the ones people tell when they look at the stars. Stories of overcoming adversities, victories of small and grand proportions, and epic love. Maybe they will someday. For now, her stories are still being told to the stars, whispered with hoofbeats on a single path. 

There’s a consistent light knocking that keeps Shang tethered to the Earth, a reminder that he doesn’t live amongst her stars in the sky. When he had been packing up their things, what little they have, he had noticed her arrow stash was depleted except for one. When he had picked it up, he’d recognized it. That arrow had meant nothing to him. It had matched his other arrows at the time, but she never had any of those. She had made her own after she met with the archers. Her arrows were always far sharper and usually made with a different wood. The feathers were brighter from the birds she hunted. She had kept his arrow. A gift he unknowingly gave her before he knew anything. 

“Where will we live?” Mulan wonders aloud as they relax by the fire he built for breakfast. They had ridden until the sun rose. By then, Shang needed to stretch his legs and Mulan was waking. Now he lies on his back, his head on her thigh as he gazes up at her. 

“We’ve always talked about having a small house with large enough land for a small farm and room to breathe,” he says, picking at a bun and nibbling on the piece he ripped off. It’s strange how eating military rations feels more normal to him than palace food now. He can still remember the days spent when we wanted to spit out the military food. Now, he prefers it. 

“Do you know of anywhere like that?” Mulan takes a bite from the bun he raises to her lips. 

He knows of villages that might have farms he could buy, but he would have to find them. His father might have had a cottage somewhere to rest on his way back from his own wars. His parents might have even bought a place for him and his bride years ago, eagerly waiting for their only son to marry. He won’t know until he faces his mother. The Emperor probably has a few options for them but those would all be near the palace or in other castles. “I know where I can look.”

“Can it be far away from Mt. Song?” Mulan asks quietly. Shang never wants to see that mountain again either, though it will be hard to avoid. He nods. 

He remembers closing his eyes and Mulan’s thumb stroking his cheek, but he doesn’t remember falling asleep to her gentle humming. He wasn’t asleep for long judging by the sun, but he still sits up and rubs his eyes. Mulan is playing with a stick in the dirt, drawing swirls and characters before rubbing them away. 

“Good morning,” she says with a smile. He pulls her face to his, his hand gently cradling her jaw as he kisses her. They can kiss now. In the open just beside the road without fear. The kiss breaks when they both grin. 

“Ready?” he asks and she nods. He helps her to stand before putting out the fire. She accepts his help back up onto the horse before he follows her up. 

“How much farther?” she asks as they start back on their path. 

“The port should only be half a day away. From there we can cross the river and then it’s up to you to lead us. Hopefully, it will look familiar enough that we won’t get lost in the last stretch.” It would be a joke except that both of them know that it is a possibility that it may look foreign after twelve years away. They may need more time trying to find their way to the Fa family, asking around until they find what was once her home. 

They make it to the port in good time. He knows they probably missed the ferry. The sun is already starting to dip in the sky. Still, he dismounts and leaves Mulan with Magu as he approaches the boatman.

“How long until the next ferry that can take a horse?” Shang asks. 

“Not until—” The man looks up and his eyes grow wide when he sees Shang’s face. He stammers and looks back at the horse. “General Li. Captain Fa.” He bows and Shang’s face burns. He clears his throat and the man stands again, brushing off any dirt that may have been on his shirt. 

“I only ask so we can make camp or not,” Shang says, glancing over at Mulan. A child has approached her and is gently stroking Magu’s nose while she talks to Mulan. Shang feels his heart melt a little. 

“You have places to be. We can send you across now,” the man says, forcing Shang’s attention back to him. 

“And them?” Shang asks. The man nods profusely as he gets up to start preparing for the sunset journey. The coins are in a pouch with Magu so Shang returns to Mulan and digs into their bag before coming up with the fare. 

“My brother wants to be just like you when he grows up,” the little girl says. Mulan gives a small good-natured laugh. The girl lowers her voice to a loud whisper after checking for her parents. “I do too, but I’m not allowed to say that.” 

“You must be very brave,” Mulan whispers back. Shang can’t help but smile. He’d never thought about having children before. His ideals on falling in love were controversial enough without adding in that he thought it would be sad to have children he would barely see because he would be too busy fighting wars. But the war is over and he plans on a long, well-deserved retirement. And after each child lost to him and Mulan, his heart broke a little more. With each bout of anxious tears that became grief-laden, Shang had wanted nothing more than to raise a child with Mulan. To see a baby with a mix of their features. To hold a bundle of strange noises and precious love. 

“Time to go,” Shang says. 

“Go tell your parents that it’s time to go,” Mulan says to the girl before turning to Shang. “That was quick.” 

“Apparently, things happen a lot quicker when you’re a recognizable war hero.” She laughs as he leads Magu toward the ferry. “We’ll have to make camp on the other side. There’s no use showing up unannounced in the middle of the night. We can sleep and start in the morning.”

“I agree, but I doubt I’ll sleep.” 

She doesn’t sleep. They don’t bother with a tent, her eyes searching for the stars as the fire crackles beside them. At first, he thought she would sleep from the exhaustion of travel and wounds healing. Her anxious energy over seeing her family again won over, keeping her eyes wide open. Her hands play with Shang’s hair and his hands as he remains curled up by her side, trying to fall asleep himself. 

Shang gets short rests in between her fidgeting but he doesn’t say a word. He lets her work through her emotions, playing with his fingers, braiding and unbraiding his hair, dragging her fingers through the dirt, and humming melancholy songs. Each time he wakes up, he snuggles closer against her and closes his eyes again. 

“It’s dawn,” Mulan says abruptly. Shang opens his eyes. The sky is still deciding if it’s asleep or not, much as his body is. He blinks and sits up a little. 

“Is dawn black as night now?” Shang asks. 

“The sun is cresting just there,” she says, pointing to the distance. 

“Ah. Tell me when it’s arrived,” Shang says, flopping back down beside her and closing his eyes again. Her fingers run through his hair. He wonders if it’s as calming for her as it is for him because with her slowly combing through his hair, he can feel himself drifting back to sleep quicker than if she wasn’t. 

It feels as though he just blinked before Mulan says quietly, “The sun has arrived.” 

This time when Shang opens his eyes, the sky is a pale blue. The sun has awoken. Their fire from the night has long since died out. He sits up and stretches out his sore limbs. “Good morning, love.” 

“Good morning.” He helps her up and watches her turn to take in where they are, her eyes filling with recognition and memories. “I know this place.” He waits, watching her relive them for a moment. “My father used to use this port. We would say our goodbyes here as he went across.” 

“Then they should be close?” 

“I know where to go.” She says it with such determination and relief that he has nothing left to do but help her onto Magu’s back and let her lead the way. His hands rest on her hips, the reins tight in her grip. 

Shang tries taking in the landscape around him, but his heart is pounding and all he can focus on is the path they’re taking. There is no hesitation in any of her movements. She and Magu seem to know this route from somewhere deeper than memory. It’s probably about as deeply cut in her as the layout of Fan Castle is to him. 

They come to an Earth-shattering halt in the center of the path. Mulan takes a deep breath before letting it out slowly. Shang’s eyes drift from the path to the arch that belongs to a much nicer house than just a farm. There’s a small footbridge that leads from the path up to the arch that keeps the home enclosed and safe. He can almost see her twelve years ago, riding Magu in the onslaught of rain through the night with her father’s conscription notice tucked safely away. 

Mulan’s hand finds his and she grips it until her knuckles turn white and her nails bite into his palm. He winces but he doesn’t say anything as he waits for her to be ready to face her parents. 

“Am I a stranger to them now? Will they even know me?” she asks in a small voice. 

“They know you,” he whispers back, hoping his words are true. He squeezes her hand back. 

When she’s ready, Shang dismounts and helps her down carefully. She still winces, but there is no groan of pain or clenched teeth. He pulls her against him and kisses the top of her head, murmuring into her hair, “You can do this and I am right by your side.” 

“Thank you,” she says back on a breath. She pulls away and sets her eyes on the place she once called home. Shang follows behind her, the reins in his hands as he walks across the footbridge with Magu. 

“Hello!” Shang hears ahead of him. It sounds like a little boy. 

“Hello,” Mulan answers unsteadily. “Does the Fa family still live here?” 

“Yes. Who are you?” the little boy asks. 

“I am Mulan. I’m looking for Fa Zhou.” 

“I am Fa Zhen, his son.”


	32. Chapter 32

_Fa Zhen, his son_. Mulan’s heart drums loudly in her ears. This boy is no older than ten years of age. She wants to turn around and leave, but she’s made it this far and, if what Zhen says is true, he is her brother. She swallows hard. 

“I am his daughter,” Mulan says after a moment. The boy’s nose scrunches up as he looks her up and down. 

“My sister is long dead and you wear a man’s armor.” He shakes his head in disbelief. “You aren’t a girl.” She almost laughs. If all it took was her father’s armor to convince China’s Army, she would have had a much easier time away at war. Her amusement is pushed down under the weight of the first thing he said. They do think she’s dead. 

“I am not dead,” she says softly. Zhen’s eyes turn from suspicion to awe. 

“Fa _Ping_?” he asks and she nods, wondering how word traveled here faster than she had. 

“That was _you_?” He’s excited now, brimming with joy. She only nods. “Come with me.” 

Mulan checks over her shoulder and finds that Shang has dropped the reins and is ready to follow her in. She tries to smile, but her nerves keep it a small frown. She turns back toward the home she left too long ago and walks forward. 

Her armor is her father’s. She has the limp to match now too. She has never been more aware of it than she is now. The sounds of thousands of marching feet that have haunted and kept her company for years finally dies away, leaving only the sound of her boots on the wooden floor. Singular and heavy. 

Fa Li sits at the table, some tea in her hands. Her hair has grayed and her face seems to hold grief alongside the years of love. In every other way, she’s just the same. Mulan feels her nose sting with tears she refuses to cry. 

“Mother, this is—”

“My daughter!” Her mother stands so abruptly, the cup of tea drops to the floor and shatters. She runs to Mulan and hugs her immediately, her arms holding her as if afraid she will somehow vanish into thin air if she doesn’t hold her tight. 

“Mother,” Mulan says because she finally can. She feels her mother’s shoulders shake as she begins to cry. Mulan doesn’t stand a chance. Tears roll down her cheeks and she tries to blink them away, but they stream steadily. 

“My girl,” she whispers. “You’re alive.” 

This is the most affection they have ever shown each other. The last time Mulan was hugged by her mother was probably back when she was a child. After that, she had known she was loved, but it was shown differently. It was never displayed with hugs or tight squeezes or tears. 

“Where is Father?” Mulan asks when they part. Her mother’s eyes drop to the floor for a moment and she shakes her head. “No. No.” Mulan swallows and shuts her eyes against the truth. He had been weak when she’d left. She had known then that he wouldn’t make it through the war, but somehow she had thought he would be here. She had gone to war to save him and had somehow convinced herself that by her going, he was also cured of his ailments and would be here waiting for her return. “I need to see him.”

“Of course.” 

Mulan follows her mother back out of the home and only pauses at Magu to grab the sword of her final enemy and the medallion of the Emperor. Her fingers graze the feathers of her last arrow, courage to face a grave rather than a man supplied through her good luck charm. 

Shang follows her like a shadow, there for her always, but silent until he’s needed. She thinks about reaching for him, holding his hand to keep her standing, but she keeps her hands by her side, her eyes on the temple where his name has surely been added to the stones of her family. 

When they arrive at the temple, Mulan’s mother, brother, and husband all stand outside as she steps in alone. The room is just as she remembers it, but with two extra names: her grandmother’s and her father’s. With difficulty, she falls to her knees and lowers herself into a deep bow, pressing her forehead to the cool stone. 

She wants to cry, but being here makes her quiet and calm. She takes a breath and sits up to face the stone, still kneeling before it. “Father,” she says softly. She removes the sword from her waist and lays it before the stone. “I brought you the sword of our enemy and the crest of the Emperor.” She removes the medallion from her neck and places it on the floor too. “I earned them by taking your place. They are gifts to honor the Fa family.” 

The silence is a cold embrace. She feels her lip tremble and her tears start to slip, but she stays still. “Oh, how I miss you,” she says, voice breaking. “I did it because I love you,” her breath hitches, “and I lost you still.” 

The walk away from the temple is harder. The sword and medallion feel heavier. She stops and hands them both to Shang, unable to bear the weight any longer. He wipes her tears away with a careful thumb. It feels like it should be raining, a downpour over the grief. Instead, the sun shines, beaming and glowing with warmth. She wishes it would reach her cold skin. 

“Mother,” Mulan says when they reach the main house again. 

Zhen presses himself against their mother, silently announcing his refusal to leave for what seems like an important conversation as Fa Li faces Mulan and Shang and waits for whatever it is that her daughter has to say. 

“This is my husband, General Li Shang,” Mulan says, finally reaching to Shang and feeling his hand squeeze hers. Her heart pounds as she watches her mother’s eyes work through the news. The shock lasted only a moment before pride and quiet, restrained happiness. 

“It is an honor,” her mother says, bowing her head to Shang in respect. “I hope for the greatest happiness and many blessings for your union.” 

She is probably reeling inside. The last time she saw her daughter, Mulan had been a disgrace, unable to be matched to anyone her mother had hoped to secure her future with. She never would have matched with a General in normal circumstances. Now, her daughter is before her, changed by time, war, and love. She’s a war hero with a severe limp and is married to a high-ranking man of the Chinese Army. 

Mulan and Shang do the one thing they can do to include her family in their marriage. They’ll hopefully be able to do it again once they make it to Fan Castle, but for now their attention is on the Fa family. With Li and Zhen seated at the table, Shang and Mulan perform the Wedding Tea Ceremony, serving Mulan’s mother first and her brother second. Zhen is quiet and accepting even with his strange glances at Shang and Mulan. Her mother smiles as she sips hers, too proud to keep it all contained. 

“I’ve drawn you a bath,” her mother says hours later. Mulan has stripped her armor off and has it resting in the wardrobe in her room. She had debated putting it back in her father’s training room, but couldn’t bear to part with it after everything. He would understand. After all, he had kept his armor. 

“Will you help me?” 

“Of course, my orchid.” Mulan has always been her father’s cherry blossom and her mother’s orchid. No one has called her either of those since she was small. 

Mulan leans on her mother to walk to the bath. It pains her when she realizes that her mother does it without thinking or fumbling because she had done this many times for Mulan’s father. She shoves down the thought as they reach the room. There’s still steam coming off the water and all of the soaps are lined up. It’s much more luxurious than a lake in the dead of night. 

Mulan unties her shirt and lets it fall away before stepping out of her pants. She doesn’t miss the pained look in her mother’s eyes. Her skin was always supposed to be smooth and unblemished. Her shoulder is scarred. Her leg looks as mangled as it feels. When she pulls the bandage over her stomach back, her stab wound, stitched and healing is surrounded by purple and yellow bruises. She has scrapes, scratches, bruises, and scars all over her. 

The hot water feels soothing as she sinks into it. Her eyes close and her muscles all start to loosen. For the first time in twelve years, her mother is there to rub the soap into her skin. She’s there to work her hands into the muscles and ease some of the pain that she had ever had to before. She listens to her mother’s soft singing as her hair is washed of sweat and blood. Neither of them say anything when pink water runs from her wrung hair. It’s probably hers, but she’s not entirely sure anymore. 

“Your father’s cane could use a walk.” 

“I didn’t know the cane could want for anything, let alone a walk,” Mulan counters with a small laugh. “Are you sure?” 

“No one else needs it and I would hate to think of you trying to walk without one.” They sigh the same sigh of discontent and it makes Mulan smile again. “Please, take it.”

“I will.” She pauses, trying to think of how she could possibly ask or take anything more than a cane from her family. She chews her lip before letting her shoulders sag. “My horse… Father’s horse…” 

“Magu would be lost without you. He has been since you were old enough to learn to ride.” It feels both tense, laden with the years apart, and easy as if she hasn’t been gone a single day. She had expected to feel one or the other, but not both at the same time. “Your dresses are still in your room. We can send you with your things.” 

“Thank you, mother.” 

After her bath, Mulan lets her mother wrap a bandage around her middle before helping her into a dress. It’s nothing as extravagant as the day she went to be matched, but after so long of not wearing one, it feels foreign. She had missed looking so feminine. She plays with the hems of the sleeves as her hair is combed and pulled back into a low bun. 

Mulan pulls back when she sees the hair ornament that’s in her mother’s hands. “You kept it?” she asks, looking at the flower comb she had left in place of a goodbye. Fa Li holds it gently, frowning down at it as she runs her fingertip along the delicate petals. 

“Your father did not put this comb down from the moment he woke that morning until the day he died,” she says softly. “It broke his heart, Mulan.” 

“As it did mine,” Mulan says. Her voice refuses to dip to the soft whisper of a woman. Her heart refuses. When it does, it’s accidental, her lungs not supplying enough air through her grief and shock. Right now, her voice is quiet. 

She sits still again and feels her comb pressed into her bun before her mother sighs happily. “There.” 

Mulan stays seated until her mom returns with a familiar wooden cane. She reaches for it and feels her hand naturally find the groove that had been worn smooth from her father’s use. His hands were bigger, but her hand still seems to fit in the shadow of his. She can feel how heavily he had relied on it just from the way it feels to rise to her feet, her own grip tight. Now that she’s holding onto it, she feels resentful of her past pride for keeping her from using the cane Shang had tried to get her to use. She had insisted she was fine and she could walk, but they both knew it was a lie. She was in pain every day, limping and pretending she wasn’t. 

Mulan walks out of the room and makes her way to the dining room while her mother goes to the kitchen to prepare lunch. Shang was supposed to also be taking a bath and changing into fresh clothes of his own. Her father’s clothes had been offered as an option, but Shang is much taller than Fa Zhou ever was. 

When Mulan steps into the dining room, Shang’s cheeks tinge pink as he looks her up and down. She feels self-conscious. He’s never seen her in a dress before. He’s never seen her hair pulled into a women’s fashion with accessories. Makeup was only ever worn on special occasions. Mulan had thought about wearing it for the first time Shang would see her in a dress, but she had decided that she’s not and never has been one for makeup. 

Shang looks relaxed. His hair is clean and only half of it is pulled into a knot. The rest of it lays flat, flowing down his back. His clothes are plain, the only ones he has with him until they can retrieve what belongs to him at Fan Castle or go to a seamstress. His wrist still holds her circlet of hair as her ankle holds his. She smiles. 

“You look like a girl,” Zhen says from where he’s sitting across from Shang. 

“Thank you,” Mulan says, taking her seat beside Shang. It’s been a long time since anyone has said anything close to that. 

“You look beautiful,” Shang says, his hand finding hers. She smiles up at him, heat rushing to her cheeks to match his. 

“Are you really my sister?” Zhen asks. Mulan looks away from her husband and nods. “Then why did they tell me you died?”

“They thought I was dead. I was at war for twelve years and couldn’t tell them I was alive.” It feels weird talking to this stranger and spilling something that had once been a secret that weighed so much it hurt to hold. Now it falls freely from her lips as if it were lighter than air. 

“I have only lived for nine,” Zhen says, his eyebrows furrowing as he tries to imagine twelve whole years away. “If you’re a girl, why did you go?” 

“So Father wouldn’t have to.” She’s already tired from the questions. 

“You really killed a guy?” He’s so innocent and small. She wishes he would ask about friendships or lessons or what Little Brother and Grandmother were like. Instead, he asks about war and if she has taken another man’s life. 

“Many,” Shang says for her. Zhen’s mouth drops with awe and Shang tells him to close it kindly. 

“Was Father…?” She trails off when she realizes she doesn’t know what she wants to know. She misses him. She has been grieving his loss since she walked off of this property. She hadn’t expected to return. Her grief is renewed, but it feels like a raw ache at her core rather than the oppressive chokehold Shang had had to deal with when he found his father’s body among the slaughtered. 

“Father was quiet,” Zhen says. “Mother says someone took his voice.” 

Mulan’s mother cuts the conversation short with her entrance, holding the food for lunch. Throughout the meal, Zhen asks more questions that either find answers or a scolding for asking such things. Fa Li keeps steering the conversation away from war, seeing a look she probably remembers in her husband’s face in both Mulan and Shang. 

“Thank you for the meal,” Mulan says, bowing her head to her mother. “I need to rest.” Shang thanks her and follows Mulan to the room that has been made up for them. 

Mulan’s old room is now Zhen’s and much too small for a married couple to share. The room they’re in used to belong to Grandmother but has since become guest quarters. It makes Mulan wonder if more family came to visit when Zhen was born, when Father died, when her cousins got bored and needed to get away from their own villages. 

“Are you alright?” Shang asks when they sit on the edge of the bed. 

Mulan lets the cane rest against the side of the bed as she reaches for Shang, shaking her head no as the tears start to spill again. He holds her, a hand rubbing circles into her back as he kisses the side of her head and cheek. 

She doesn’t know why she’s crying. It’s everything, really. Of the loves she left behind, only her mother remains. She has a brother of blood who doesn’t know her, but she left behind her brothers from war, unsure if their hearts were still bound with hers. A constant weight that she had held onto to push forward was suddenly gone. The war is over and so is that constant worry, the weight lifted. Her armor is on the floor, replaced with a dress she hadn’t known she had missed this much. She’s at her childhood home, but it no longer feels like home. 

“I know,” Shang whispers as she weeps. His embrace is worth holding onto. It’s the only thing keeping her together right now. “I know,” he sighs again, sharing her burden. 


	33. Chapter 33

Almost two full weeks have passed since Shang and Mulan left Luoyang. As he had predicted, two weeks later, he steps through the gates to Fan Castle with Mulan. They had left the Fa residence with Magu and a small cart with food and Mulan’s things. It had been hard to watch her say goodbye to her mother, but they both were ready to go, eager to get to Fan Castle and be one step closer to finding their own place to call home. 

Magu is taken to the stables, their things hauled off to Shang’s quarters. Then it’s just Shang and Mulan. Their fingers are laced between them as they stare ahead at the door that will lead to his mother. Xiu could be there with his wife, Shang’s sister, Liling. For all he knows, his entire family could be waiting for his arrival. 

“You can do this and I am right by your side,” Mulan says, echoing what he had said to her when they had faced her family. He smiles and lifts her hand to his lips before sighing. He steps forward and knocks before pushing the door open. 

Where Mulan’s family is quiet and their home is humble, Shang’s family is loud and somewhat extravagant. He had never thought twice about the number of vases or tapestries his mother kept on display before. In public, his mother and sisters are all as society wants them to be, quiet and practically mute. In the privacy of their home, he can hear his mother and sister arguing in the kitchen. It’s still relatively quiet. They never raise their voices. But after coming from the Fa residence where all conversation is quiet aside from Zhen’s constant questions, it feels like the loudest house he’s ever been in. 

“Mother?” Shang calls out. All noise stops and Mulan looks up at Shang with mild alarm. 

“Shang?” There’s a rush of footsteps and then the two emerge in the doorway. His mother somehow seems shorter. Her hair is almost entirely gray now and her eyes crinkle when she sees him. Her hands meet in front of her and she bows. 

“Shang!” Liling doesn’t bother with proper etiquette. She throws her arms around him before he can return his mother’s bow. She hasn’t changed much. She has more ornaments in her hair, and her clothes are new, but Liling is just the same. “Xiu said you would be here, but I had started to think he lied when so much time had passed. My brother.” She squeezes tight before letting go and taking a step away. 

“Where is Xiu?” Shang asks. 

“Present,” he says, coming around the corner from the hallway that leads to the bedrooms. He freezes when his eyes land on Mulan. “Captain Fa,” he says, bowing to both of them. 

“Excuse me?” Liling and his mother say in unison, looking from Xiu to Mulan. 

Shang clears his throat. “This is Mulan,” he takes a steadying breath, “my wife.” 

“That was quick,” Xiu says as Liling and his mother look as if they can’t quite believe what they’re hearing. 

“I need to sit down,” Liling says, dramatic as ever. Xiu takes her arm and leads her to a pillow to rest on. 

“When did you marry? Was it approved? Why am I the last to find out, Shang?” She bows to Mulan as she says, “Congratulations and welcome to the Li family.” Then she fixes Xiu with a look that could pull the truth out of anyone as she asks, “Why did you call her Captain Fa?” 

“Surely you’ve heard of the woman warrior who saved China?” Xiu says it as if it’s yesterday’s news. Liling gasps and looks between Shang and Mulan with awe. “This is Captain Fa, the woman who saved the Emperor and all of China.” Liling and Shang’s mother both bow to Mulan before offering her a seat on a pillow. 

Shang and Mulan take a seat together and everyone makes themselves comfortable as Shang tries to figure out how to answer everyone’s burning questions quickly. 

“Thank you,” Mulan says as she settles, laying her cane down beside her and folding her hands in her lap. She had worried that her time at war would burn away what little proper etiquette of ladies she had learned. It seems she had worried for nothing. 

“We did not get approval from anyone,” Shang says first and foremost. “We were married in secret a little over eleven years ago and couldn’t tell anyone for fear of anyone finding out she was a woman.” 

“You’ve been married this whole time?” Xiu bursts out. 

“A few months subtracted,” Mulan answers. 

“What, for training?” Xiu asks, but when Shang and Mulan both smile, he covers his face with his hands. 

“It wasn’t exactly planned,” Shang says. “We met. We fell in love. We decided we needed to get married with or without permission.” 

“More decidedly _without_ , it would seem,” his mother says, lips tight. “This is why you have been rejecting every bride.”

“Yes.”

“I’m so happy for you both,” Liling says with a genuine smile. 

After short talk of travels and “welcome home”’s, Shang’s mother goes to sort out the money and gifts she will send to Mulan’s family while Liling brings Mulan to go chat somewhere else. Xiu fixes Shang with a look before they both get up and head outside to go for a walk. 

“What is it? Spit it out,” Shang sighs when Xiu doesn’t speak first. 

“So many things.” His best friend shakes his head before looking at him. “We teased you relentlessly. You could have told me.”

“It would have risked too much to tell you. Besides, the teasing was fine. We laughed about it.” Shang wonders in the back of his mind if Mulan is having a similar conversation with his sister. 

“So the mountain…” Xiu presses. Shang doesn’t mean to take the sharp breath. He clenches his jaw and keeps his eyes forward. “I’m sorry.” 

“Ask all of your questions now,” Shang says, forcing himself to relax again. 

“When did she steal your heart? When did you find out she wasn’t Ping? Did her brothers know?” It would seem the questions have been stacking in Xiu’s mind. Shang can’t help but smile. “How did her parents take the news?” 

“She didn’t have to work very hard to take my heart. I was hers the moment we met no matter how mad I was at the time that it was true. If you had been in my training camp, I might have told you back then, before I knew everything. I might have told you how lost I was when I was near her.” Shang smiles a little at the memories that could have faded with time but have stayed vibrant and relivable. 

“I should have asked to be your second,” Xiu jokes. 

“She told me the truth after training was over. When we were on our way to join Father’s infantry.” Xiu makes a low whistle that drops off at the end. “Her brothers didn’t know until everyone knew. That reminds me. Would you do me a favor?”

“Anything.” 

“Find the village that they live in for me.” Shang had seen the look on her face as she left them behind. If he can find them, maybe she can see them again. Xiu nods as if adding this task to his mental list. 

“Her mother seemed happy to find that her daughter lived. She seems to like me well enough. Fa Zhou passed a few years ago.” 

“She really is Fa Zhou’s daughter?” He can’t keep the excitement and awe from his voice. 

“She didn’t lie about who she is. Just that she was a man,” Shang says, trying to keep the defensive edge out of his voice. Mulan only had one lie and it had nothing to do with who she is. She remains strong and caring, a great Captain, and an excellent archer. She just wears a dress now rather than armor. Her bow replaced with a cane. 

“Right. Of course.” Xiu nods and then shakes his head. He’s still working through it all. “You know I’m happy for you, right?”

“Yes.” They shove each other gently in the shoulders and smile at the childish display of affection. 

“Why would you want to live in the middle of nowhere when you can stay here?” Shang’s mother argues. He sighs and refrains from dragging a hand down his face in exasperation. His father’s houses are all in cities. The Emperor has a place for him in Luoyang as well. His mother wants him to remain at Fan Castle. 

“You didn’t fight this hard for me to choose to stay here before.” 

“I didn’t think I would have to. I also didn’t think I would have any grandchildren by you.” Oh, there she goes again. “You were always so difficult when it came to marriage and picking a bride. We never thought you would get married. All of those girls were so nice and had good families. Strong lines. You turned them all down. Even if you never married, where else would you go besides here?” 

“A small village with room to breathe,” he deadpans. 

“Breathing. Who needs it?” she scoffs, waving her hand. “You don’t want a simple life, Shang.”

“ _All_ I want is a simple life, Mother.”

This time, she sighs. She purses her lips and nods. “My brother has a house in a village near Chang’An that he hasn’t lived in since his health troubles started. I will send him news of you moving there with your wife and payment.” 

“Thank you,” Shang says instead of asking why she didn’t just start with that to begin with. “How long would you like us to stay here before we depart?” 

“Forever,” she says with a huff. He tries not to laugh. “A week at least. Your poor wife looks like she needs a good meal and some rest.” 

“Both are true. Thank you.”

They share a smile before her eyes soften and she says, “I’m so proud of you, my boy.” 

They had arrived just after midday and still, the hours that passed between their arrival and the time they finally were able to retire to their room felt too long. They might as well have lived an entire week packed into half a day. 

“Liling is sweet,” Mulan says as she settles into bed. She yawns quietly and looks up at Shang again. 

“I’m glad you two are getting along.” He had worried about it briefly, but those worries had been quelled when he had seen Liling take Mulan by the arm and walk with her to the women’s day room. “I think Xiu is still reeling from finding out you’re a woman.” 

“I can still beat him, stab wound or not,” she says with that competitive grin. 

“You are not getting into more fights just for fun,” Shang warns her. She laughs and reaches for him. He obliges and crawls into bed beside her, immediately folding himself against her side, wrapping his arms around her, and kissing wherever he can reach. 

She sighs happily as she pulls him closer, his lips caressing her neck. Now that she’s healed, she refuses to take it slow. There are no clothes to tear away, no barriers at all. His hand glides over her bare side. Mulan tilts his chin up and steals his kisses. Her lips are soft but her kisses are heated and light fires inside of him. He feels her hands run down his body as he moves to get on top of her. She grips his hips as he sucks her tongue into his mouth. 

One of his hands gently cups her breast, his thumb grazing her nipple to elicit a small whimper. It works and she nibbles his lip in response. Her legs wrap around his, pulling him against her so his stiff cock is pressed against her. Having been unable to go much further than kissing for the past two weeks, neither of them need more to be ready for each other. Their burning touches, naked bodies, heavy breaths, and wanting mouths are enough to have her begging with her hips. He groans into her mouth as he slides into her. She makes a small noise that he quiets with more kisses as he pushes all the way into her. 

Her hands slide up his back as he starts to set a rhythm. She rolls her hips against his and he groans as his thrusts become harder and faster. Her lips leave his as her breaths become harsh. He moves to her throat, sucking and biting, kissing her always. 

“Shang!” she moans, her fingers digging into his back. He moans back, curling the blankets into his fist. He buries himself in her as her mouth finds his again. Sloppy kisses do nothing to muffle both of their whimpering moans and ragged breaths. 

The door opens and Xiu gives a surprised shout. “I’m sorry!” he yells, slapping a hand over his face. “I’m sorry!” 

Mulan starts laughing as Shang throws a pillow at Xiu yelling at him to get out. Xiu drops Mulan’s cane before running out of the room and shutting the door. “Learn to knock!” Shang calls after him. He bows his head so his forehead rests against Mulan’s chest as she continues to laugh. 

“Twelve years in the Army surrounded by thousands of men and we weren’t disturbed once. One day with your family and this happens,” she says, a hand stroking through his hair. 

“Masters of secrecy,” Shang murmurs, his lips against her skin. She gives a soft sigh and he gently rakes his teeth over her throat before kissing again. She rolls her hips and everything is forgotten. 

He moves slowly, pulling out almost all the way before sliding all the way in tantalizingly slow. She shivers and groans, her hand tightening in his hair. She pulls a little and he stays slow but pushes harder. “Yes!” she calls, head thrown back. 

Their rhythm picks up as they continue to pull at each other, kissing where they can reach, their fast breaths mingling between their trembling lips when they can’t. He can feel himself getting closer and thrusts hard. She whimpers with his grunt. He pumps again and shudders with his release. She clings to him, the moans filling the room. She bucks her hips and forces a little more from him, biting his lip. 

When he’s finished, he rolls off of her and falls to the spot beside her, panting still, breathless as he gazes over at her. It’s dark, but he can still see the sheen of sweat at her hairline and he knows more than sees the flush in her cheeks. Her dark hair is a mess from his hands and the pillows. Even in the dark when he can barely see her, she is beautiful and perfect. She kisses the tip of his nose and smiles, cuddling close to him. 

“I love you,” he whispers, his cheek pressed to the top of her head. 

“I love you too,” she whispers back, relaxing against him. 

“I’m not going to ask why you missed breakfast,” Xiu says when Shang and Mulan finally join him in a room that’s usually just for men. Mulan smirks. 

“Good,” Shang says, taking a seat and stretching out. Mulan sits by the window, sunlight streaming in and bathing her in its glow. 

“That’s what you get for being celibate for so long, I suppose,” Xiu says. Mulan immediately bursts out laughing, shaking her head. 

“We did not, not that it’s any of your business,” Mulan corrects him, still clearly amused. 

“Then how did you manage to not have children all of these years?” 

The question is genuine, but Mulan’s face falls. Shang feels his heart plummet. Their eyes find each other and he feels each time he had held her as they cried. He can still hear her sobs last time she found she was with child and had begged for it to be a nightmare because she couldn’t go through it again. He remembers weeping with her with each loss. 

“She was sick…” Xiu says slowly. Mulan’s eyes close before she turns to face the window. “No.” He looks between Mulan and Shang with mournful empathy. “I’m sorry.” 

“It’s the past,” Mulan says abruptly. “The war is over.” Much like this conversation apparently. 

“How are the kids?” Shang asks Xiu. 

“They’re excited, but they have their training to complete and school lessons. We will bring them here for dinner tonight before we go back to our own house.” Shang can hear the words he doesn’t say. That he left when his youngest wasn’t even born yet and now she can attend actual lessons and speak. Xiu’s children all grew up while he was away and he feels it every time he looks at them. “Liling is glad I’m finally home. She loves you,” he adds to Mulan. 

“She’s wonderful,” Mulan says. She’s more relaxed in this room. She doesn’t have a show to put on for anyone. 

“She’s a little jealous that you’re spending your day in here with us men rather than with her and Mother,” Xiu laughs. Mulan smiles but only shakes her head. “Wine?” 

“Please,” Mulan and Shang say at the same time. She developed a taste for it after being around her brothers. Tea and wine were the drinks of choice on special occasions. Special occasions being when they found a market and had enough coin. She and Shang had shared some wine in his tent three times a year, vaguely guessing when their birthdays and anniversaries were. It’s hard to keep track of the days when time seems to move too fast and too slow all at once. 

Xiu pours three glasses without question. He’d shared wine with her before and it seems he doesn’t mind even now. Liling’s jaw would drop through the floor if she knew. So would his mother’s. 

“She’s my first friend who isn’t some filthy _boy_ ,” Mulan says. Xiu and Shang laugh together as she makes a face. “I like her very much and plan to spend more time with her, but you were my friend first.” 

“Cheers.” Xiu raises his glass, grinning.


	34. Chapter 34

“No peeking,” Shang warns her. Mulan has been wearing a blindfold since they reached this road. It feels strange to ride a horse without sight, but she and Magu have been together through too much for her trust to fail now. She feels Shang dismount and she focuses on the sound of his feet. 

“Shang,” she half-laughs as she listens to him move around. 

“Okay. Come here.” His hands are on her thighs. She scoots until his hands find her waist and he scoops her into his arms swiftly. Now she’s really laughing, not caring that she’s still in the dark. Her arms loop around his shoulders and he starts walking. 

“Is this our home?” she asks in his ear. 

“Yes,” he whispers back. His smile can’t be hidden by a blindfold. It shines through his voice. “Take it off.” 

She slips the cloth from her eyes and looks at their home. It’s a small cottage with sprawling land. A small river runs through, lined by rocks. The stables need to be cleaned, but they look like a good home for Magu. There’s a hen house that awaits residents. The fields seem to go forever. 

“This is ours?” she asks in awe as she looks back at Shang. 

“It’s ours.” 

She looks back at the house and reaches for her cane that Shang hands her. It’s everything she’s wanted. There are no neighbors around, a house in seclusion. The air is quiet and she can hear her own thoughts and the sound of her cane on the wood when she reaches the porch. Shang follows her in as she pushes the door open. 

It’s exactly what she wanted. A small cottage with only a few rooms, a good kitchen and dining area, a perfect lounging room. Without moving, she can see her life here. Shang can deal with the tea. Their guests can stay in the third bedroom because the first will be for Shang and Mulan and the second for their child. A dog will run about wanting to be chased and pet. When the stars come out, Shang and Mulan will finish their tea and go out to their yard and lie down in the grass to gaze up together. Their hair will gray and their fingers will remain locked together. 

“It’s perfect,” she breathes. He wraps one arm around her. This is the home they’d been dreaming of for years. This is where their hearts had settled before even knowing of its existence. 

A full week passes before Shang ventures off their property. During that week, the house becomes their home. The wardrobes in the bedroom filled up with dresses, day clothes, and armor. Their swords and bow were placed on display with the gifts from the Emperor. The dust was cleaned away. Mulan’s single arrow was placed beside the bed. The stables were cleaned and Magu finally rested, retired from war as his father had after Fa Zhou’s return. 

Mulan knows that a woman’s place is not in town. She learned that, had it etched into her skull, long before she even went to be matched. Instead, she stands at the door and watches Shang collect Magu and their cart. 

“Are you sure you won’t come with?” he asks. The sun makes his hair shine. She smiles and shakes her head. 

“I’m sure you can buy food and chickens alone,” she says with a small smile. He walks to her with a few long strides and kisses her, holding her as if she might float away like a petal on the wind. 

“Please let this take only a short time,” he mutters to himself when their kiss breaks, his forehead resting against hers. She runs her hand down the side of his face before he steps away again. He takes a deep breath and squares his shoulders. “Shopping should be easier than winning a war, right?” 

“Who knows? You did have over a thousand men at your disposal before. Perhaps this will prove a worthy contender of war.” 

Shang laughs as he walks back to Magu. She watches them walk away together. Her war horse that she had ridden into more than one battle and wore light armor was now wearing nothing more than a small cart. Her husband who had led armies and killed men was now in his plain clothes, no sword at his hip. They both walk as if they’re still out there, unprotected and protecting the civilians rather than joining them. Shang’s jaw and shoulders are still set in a venerable way and she had caught him taking down his General’s knot to retie his hair into something casual. 

She knows she’s just the same. She may wear a dress, but she still stands as if holding the weight of her armor. Her binding is gone, left on a mountain. There’s no need to make a new one and wrap herself tight, but by instinct she tries to reach for one when she wakes. She still goes to grab her bow before walking out the front door, but the bow is hung up and there is no one to fight. 

Mulan walks around her land, her cane punctuating each step. She watches her reflection follow her in the water of the small river that runs through. She used to do something similar at her father’s home. They had had a larger river that was decorated with stone bridges and lined with smooth rocks. This one is smaller with a small wooden footbridge to get across. The rocks that line it are still smooth and large, but her unsteady gait stops her from stepping up. 

Once upon a time, she had been discontented, dishonored, a failure to the Fa name. She had dipped her hands into the water as she cried, wiping away the makeup her mother had so carefully put on her face before. She had watched the white and the red come away on her fingertips as she had angrily told herself she would never pass for a perfect bride or a perfect daughter. She hadn’t known then that she was both, but she had to take her own path. She was never meant to play the part that she had been born to. She had to forge her own way. Her reflection used to show someone she could never be, but now she sees herself. She sees a woman, happily married, a few scars from war that run deeper than her skin. She sees a retired Captain, a strong woman, and the honor that she earned. 

“Mulan?” Shang calls. She walks out of their bedroom where she had been writing to her mother. 

“You survived your shopping trip,” she says with a smile. He grins and nods. “What did you bring me?” Before he can answer, a puppy barks outside. 

“That.” She takes his arm and walks outside with him where a little brown dog wags his tail. “A dog you can train to feed the chickens.”

“I love him,” she says, scooping him up and petting him. He looks mischievous and like he’s most likely to cause more trouble than good, but he’s perfect. “Mushu,” she names him. 

“Why Mushu?” Shang asks when she puts the puppy back down and watches him run in a circle. 

“I had a dream about a trouble-making dragon named Mushu. I don’t remember much, but it feels right.” She takes his hand and leads him back into the house. 

“I still have food to bring in,” he protests without any power behind it, following her willingly. 

“Later,” she says, turning to kiss him. His hands grip her waist as her arms loop around his shoulders. They have already made every room in the house theirs, so it isn’t completely shocking when they fall to the floor in the middle of the entryway. Mulan giggles as Shang’s lips graze over her jaw as her skirts are pushed up. 

She pulls his shirt off before he resumes kissing her. Her fingers run over his scars. They match hers. She wishes she could heal them completely with her gentle touch, but here they have stayed for all their years together. Her fingers trail down his torso, wandering over his toned muscles before reaching his pants and yanking them off. He helps with the undressing, kicking them off and letting them land somewhere behind him. 

Shang loosens the top of her dress so he’s able to run his thumb over her nipple. She shivers and bites his lip in retaliation. When she lets go, Shang’s mouth moves to her neck, her head tilting back as he sucks and and she sighs. His tongue trails to her breast and her hands tighten in his hair. His licking and sucking and tiny nips are fine-tuned to exactly what she likes. It doesn’t take long for her whimpers to become pleading as she pulls at his hips. 

He has never been able to resist past this point and he doesn’t now. He slides into her and they both let out a soft moan. Her legs wrap around him as he pushes all the way into her. When they were out there, there hadn’t been a goal. They were doing what was unheard of: taking sexual pleasure in each other rather than using sex only to achieve the end goal of becoming parents. It had always just been about wanting to be closer, forever closer. It’s the same now, but with the added ravenous need for something neither of them had been able to allow themselves to dream of before. 

Each child they had conceived and lost together had been accidental and from love. Each child was a tragic yet needed loss. Now they can finally actively try for children, their love still propelling them forward. And they do. 

Mulan gasps as her fingers dig into his back. Shang’s lips against her collar bone can’t keep up the kissing anymore, his harsh breaths heating her skin rather than his kisses. His name falls from her lips in ecstasy which only drives his thrusts harder and deeper. 

When he comes, he shudders and groans into her mouth. She answers with her own low moan, holding him against her, their chests still managing to heave despite being pressed together. Her legs fall to the side, her body limp with satisfaction. 

He pulls on his clothes before lying on the floor beside her. Their hands lock between them before she turns her face to look at him. His cheeks are flushed, a thin sheen of sweat over his forehead, and a dreamy look in his eyes. She grins and sighs happily. 

Mulan wakes with a start, her heart racing. Shang’s hands find her shoulders, calming her enough for her to take in the room around them. She’s not on a snowy mountain, left for dead. She’s at home in her bed. There are no distant fires of the enemy. There’s no distant flames at all, Shang having blown out the candles before they’d fallen asleep. She gulps in the air and keeps her eyes wide in the dark as Shang rubs circles into her back. 

“Tiger?” he asks, voice coming out of the haziness of sleep. 

“No,” she says, shaking her head and forcing her breaths to slow in hopes her heart will follow. She rests a hand over her chest to feel the rapid beat. “Do you dream of the mountain?” 

“Yes.” He sighs and sits up more, his hand still a reassuring touch on her back. “I relive watching you fall and the look in your eyes when I was supposed to behead you. Sometimes I wake when I’m forced to relive taking Jun’s life.” 

She wants to ask if he regrets it, but she knows he does. They both know that he didn’t deserve to die for being as disagreeable a person as he was. He’d never done worse than kiss her and Ling. She’d already heard more than her fair share of Ling promising it never went further. Jun had said the wrong thing at the wrong time to a man who was already on the edge after having to leave his wife for dead on a mountain. 

“What was it this time?” Shang asks gently. 

“Waking to the fires in the distance. The shouts. The echoes of survivors. Crawling through the snow.” She lets herself fall against Shang, her face pressed to his chest. He hugs her against him and kisses the top of her head. “Can we go for a walk?” 

He hesitates before saying, “Yes.” He grabs them each a long robe and holds out his hands to her. Her limp is worse when she’s tired, unable to force her energy into walking. She takes his arm instead of reaching for her cane and they take slow steps through their dark house. 

“You need to commune with the stars,” he whispers when they make it outside. She looks up at the pinpricked blanket above them and nods. 

“They give me peace.” 

They walk past the stable where Magu is fast asleep. The hen house is silent. Mushu sleeps in the grass, his legs moving in imaginary leaps as he dreams. The grass under her feet is cold and calming. The night air has a chill that eases the panicked heat from her dreams. 

“You don’t have to be here,” she says after a moment, realizing he could be sleeping through the night rather than out here holding onto her as she walks. 

“I wouldn’t miss it for the world,” he says seriously. She raises an eyebrow as she looks up at him. “I have been waking in the middle of your sleepless nights for far too long to stop now.” 

“When you sparred with me and still won while you were half-asleep.” She smiles a little at the old memory. 

“And we accidentally fell asleep in my tent for the first time afterward,” he laughs. “Besides, we used to talk about doing just this. Walking around our little slice of life and breathing in the air, lying in the grass, living. How could I give up the opportunity to finally fulfill the wish with you now?” 

“I suppose you can’t.” 

They walk until her legs tire. When they lie down in the grass, she takes Shang’s hand and traces shapes in the stars with his finger. A bear. A throne. An archer. “My archer,” he had whispered, making her smile. 

She doesn’t remember falling asleep, but she must have. Eventually, their hands fell and she whispered stories to him. When her voice had faded, he’d taken over, telling her stories of all kinds. Her eyes flutter and she’s in Shang’s arms. He’s walking back toward the house with her cradled in his arms as if she weighed no more than a feather. 

“Shang?”

“Shh… Go back to sleep, love.” 

“What have you done to the poor dog?” Shang asks behind Mulan. She grins and turns to face him. 

“I’m training him.” They both turn to look back at Mushu who now has a stick and rope contraption tied onto him with a treat at the end of the rope. He runs in circles, biting at the treat as he barks. 

“Forget I asked,” Shang says, laughing and shaking his head. He takes a seat beside Mulan and kisses her cheek. “It’s finally sinking in,” he sighs when she leans her shoulder against his. 

“What is?” 

“That it’s over and we’re finally here. This is ours.” When he speaks with his heart, her entire being glows with his words. She hangs onto the last word: _ours_. “Only took a month.”

“Six weeks,” she corrects him. She’s been keeping track of the days much better now than she had when she was in the Army. She’d had no reason to before. She had gone to save her father and had known her probability of death was high. She hadn’t kept track of the days, thinking she was counting down the days of her life. 

“Six weeks,” he agrees. 

“Are you good at building?” Mulan asks vaguely. 

“I don’t know. I haven’t built anything since before my Captain’s training,” he says, brow furrows as if trying to recollect a time he actually built anything. She traces the lines on his hand as she waits. “Why?”

“We are in need of a new bassinette,” she says. Shang’s hand tightens on hers immediately and she looks up at him with a smile. It’s the first time they’ve both been allowed to be excited for this news. 

His eyes light up and he beams. It’s as if he’s made of sunlight, the warmth and radiance emitting from him with his joy. He pulls her against him, hugging her and peppering kisses wherever he can reach. She feels them fall on her cheeks, nose, lips, forehead, neck, shoulders, and temples. She laughs and attempts to kiss back. 

There’s still danger. There’s always danger in childbearing and childbirth, but this is their shot. This is the first child they can hope to bring into this world. So she lets herself feel the joy that she had to deny for so long. She lets the sun shine. She lets herself drown in her husband’s kisses in front of their house, her elation bubbling up and spreading out. 


	35. Chapter 35

Mulan is sitting in her garden, cursing in the least ladylike way at the plants as she works. Shang can only smile as he watches her through the window. He’s distracted by her and it’s the best feeling. He’s still holding his brush, trying to think of what words to send to Xiu. 

The last letter he’d received from him was to tell him that he had found Mulan’s brothers and had sent for them. They should be here within the next week. That is… if they’re coming. The first half of his returning letter is of thanks. The second half is asking if he and Liling would come stay with them for the end of the pregnancy so Liling can help with the birth. It’s news he has to send in a letter though it feels too personal. He would like to see Liling’s face when she hears. He’ll have to settle for her excitement upon their probable arrival. 

Shang looks back up from his unfinished letter when he hears wheels and hoofbeats. Mulan is sitting up straight, her eyes wary, garden forgotten. “Ping!” Shang hears and he grins. Mulan’s face softens and she stands up. If she could run, she probably would run to them in this moment. Shang gets up and goes to their front door, hoping he doesn’t miss much. 

He opens the door and watches as Mulan walks toward them with her cane. Her brothers all look as if they’re too taken aback by her appearance to remember their boisterous greeting. 

“My name is Mulan,” she says, her voice strong. 

“Hi, I’m Ling,” Ling says with a grin, extending his hand to her. A tear slips from Mulan’s eye and she’s quick to wipe it away before she smiles and takes his hand. 

“And I’m Chien Po,” Po says. 

“Hello,” she manages, beaming and crying. 

“And I’m Yao,” her final brother says, voice softer than usual but still managing to be gruff. “King of the Rock.”

Mulan half-laughs before her eyebrows upturn in the middle. “But are you still my brothers?” 

“You will always be our brother,” Yao says. 

“Of course,” Ling agrees.

Po is also crying and opts to hugs her tightly. The other two join, crushing Mulan in a hug that she’s needed since she left them behind in Luoyang. When they part, Yao looks behind him and gestures for his wife. She walks over to them in that way that most women do; as if floating on air rather than walking. She does her formal bow to Mulan and smiles. 

“This is my wife, Biyu,” he says. Mulan bows to her in return. “Darling, this is my fellow Captain and brother, Mulan.” 

Her voice is too soft to hear from where Shang stands, but he can tell she responds. Mulan’s eyes flicker to him and she holds out her hand. He steps off their front porch. 

“This is my husband,” Mulan says proudly, “General Li Shang.” Ling’s jaw drops and Po’s eyes grow wide. Yao looks like he’s just swallowed without chewing. 

“Gentlemen,” Shang greets them. “Good to meet you, Biyu. Would you all care for some tea inside?” 

Still gaping, the three nod. Mulan takes Shang’s arm as they lead their guests into their home. She wipes away the rest of her tears on the sleeve of her dress before looking up at him. 

“You did this,” she accuses him. 

He nods, perfectly proud of himself for being able to keep it a secret the entire time. He kisses her hand before going to the kitchen to brew the tea so she can bring her brothers to the sitting room. Shang can still hear their conversation. If he couldn’t, he would still be trying to, curious as he’s always been. 

“That was quick,” Yao says after a moment. 

“I thought you were over that,” Ling teases her. 

“Did he know?” Po asks. 

“It _was_ rather quick,” Mulan agrees slowly. Shang smiles to himself. They had only made it a heartbeat away from training before their vows. “I lied,” she says to Ling, “as I will never be over that.” He listens to her laugh. His heart couldn’t be more full. 

“I knew,” Shang says, walking in with the tea. Everyone looks up at him. 

“Just not during training,” she says. 

“Wait…” Ling says, screwing up his face like he’s thinking and trying to put the pieces together. “You knew?” He looks up at Shang and the betrayal is evident in his sad eyes. “You made us leave her.” 

“He was supposed to kill me,” Mulan says, resting her hand on Ling’s arm as if calling off an attack dog. “We _did_ talk about what would happen if I was found out. He couldn’t do it.” 

“Good,” Yao huffs. 

“I knew it,” Po says a little too triumphantly. Everyone turns to look at him and he shakes his head. “I might not have known you were a woman or about the marriage, but I knew there was something going on between you.” 

“I did too,” Ling jumps in. 

“No. You wanted them together, but thought Shang was married to… What’s her name?” Yao snaps his fingers, trying to dredge up a memory he thought he’d never need. 

“Mulan,” Ling says. 

“That’s it,” Yao agrees. Po laughs and the other two immediately swivel to face Mulan again. Shang raises an eyebrow, wondering how on Earth they could have heard of Mulan and not known of her and their secrets.

“They…” Mulan clears her throat. “They overheard you once… When you were hurt. You were calling for me.” She rubs the back of her neck and smiles guiltily. She looks back at her brothers and Shang rests a hand over Mulan’s to ease her obvious nerves. “I’m sorry I couldn’t tell you. Believe me, I wanted to.”

“It must have been a heavy burden,” Po says understandingly. Ling nods. 

“We don’t blame you for it. It was safer this way,” Yao says. Biyu seems at a loss for words as she tries to follow a conversation of memories and confessions that she isn’t part of. 

“You can speak freely here,” Shang says to her. 

“Thank you, but I don’t know what I could say right now.” Her eyes flicker to Mulan. “My husband has told me so many stories, but…” 

“I’m shorter than you expected?” Mulan asks.

“No. He loves to complain about your height,” Biyu laughs. Mulan grins. “I never would have thought that such beauty could live alongside such powerful strength in one soul,” she finishes softly. 

Mulan and Biyu stay inside, chatting and drinking their tea as Shang goes outside to help with the luggage. He leads two horses to Magu’s stables as Yao, Ling, and Po start unpacking their things from the two carts. 

Shang grabs a few bags and starts leading them to their rooms. “I never got to thank you for coming.”

“We wouldn’t have missed it,” Po says kindly. 

“We would have been here sooner if someone hadn’t needed to drop his son off with family,” Ling snaps. Yao rolls his eyes. “We left almost as soon as we got the letter.” 

“Your room,” Shang says, pausing at a door. 

Yao opens it and drops his luggage with a, “Thank you, General.” 

“I think you can call me Shang now,” he laughs. Yao mumbles something, but it’s too low to understand. “You two are in this room,” Shang says, walking to the next door. Ling and Po exchange a glance before thanking him and walking in. 

No one can say that anything under this roof is conventional right now. Shang and Mulan have broken more than a few societal standards. Po and Ling, while not breaking any laws, have chosen to be to each other as a husband and wife are. Shang and Mulan not only allow it, but encourage it. How could they not after all they went through for those painful years of petty fights and palpable longing? Yao and Biyu are the only two that fit into the mold of what society has deemed _appropriate,_ and still they encourage his gay best friends and his brother who is the woman who ended the war. 

To continue with their radical household, Shang meets Mulan in the kitchen where they start to prepare dinner together while their guests rest from their journey. 

“I’m still trying to get over how we managed to not notice you were a woman for twelve years,” Ling says. Mulan and her brothers retired to the sitting room after dinner while Shang and Biyu had shared some tea. Biyu had gone to her room after thanking him in a soft voice and Shang had gone to join everyone else. 

Sitting with Biyu and drinking tea gave Shang a glimpse of what the women do when all the men retire to go drink their wine and talk. None of the conversation wandered to conquests or war. She complimented their home and asked questions about his family. He followed her lead and asked about her family. He had learned that their son had grown up quite a bit in Yao’s absence and had been quietly envious that he wasn’t allowed to come meet the great Captain Fa that everyone was talking about. Instead, he was staying with her sister so he could continue his schooling with her sons. 

“We saw each other naked!” Ling says. And there it is, the major difference between the conversation that Mulan and her brothers are having and the conversation Shang just had with Biyu. He can’t help the amused smirk that plays on his lips as he pours himself wine and takes a seat next to Po. 

“No, no,” Mulan laughs. “I saw _you_ naked. You never saw me naked. I made sure of that.” 

“No… Because… the…” His voice trails off as he tries to pinpoint a moment. 

“We only saw her at the lake once,” Po says thoughtfully.

“And we waited outside when she dressed herself. Every other time, she was dressed before we woke or before we came back from dinner,” Yao offers slowly. 

“Huh.” Ling sits back, accepting it. Mulan meets Shang’s eye and smiles. 

“I called it,” Po says suddenly. 

“What?” Shang asks. 

“When we first noticed… This,” Yao grumbles, waving vaguely at them before digging into his money pouch. “I said you flirted, but both of you had more sense than to get involved in something so inappropriate and scandalous.” 

“I thought it happened a few years in,” Ling says. “We saw you two go over the hill a few times. For a few hours at a time. Yao didn’t believe me. Said you were _just talking_.” 

“Definitely not a lot of talking,” Mulan agrees with Ling. 

“I said it happened before the tiger attack. When we talked about Ling and Shang for the first time, there was something…” Po trails off. “Something about the way you looked at him and talked to him and how you seemed like the only person in the world that he could see sometimes. And you never once slept outside in the rain but you never slept in our tent.” 

“And to think I had you fooled,” Mulan grins. Po takes Yao’s money and pockets it while Yao grumbles. “Please tell me you two aren’t being imbeciles anymore,” she says, changing the topic as she looks between Po and Ling. 

“I have never been so insulted in all my life,” Ling objects. 

“Yes, we’ve stopped that.” Po smiles a little, a blush coloring his pale cheeks. “We moved into a cottage with chickens for Ling. 

“And a garden for Po.” 

The way he says it and the way Mulan lights up at the words gives Shang a glimpse, but nothing more, into their friendship. The conversations he wasn’t there for. The friendships she forged. The beauty that the four had created together. He can still remember a time when Mulan had told him that she didn’t have friends. He can remember back to when she had nothing but enemies. That was a long time ago. 

Once everyone has retired to their rooms, Shang and Mulan cuddle up in their bed. She breathes him in as if he’s the calm to a big day. He wraps his arms a little tighter around her, hoping she can hear his heartbeat under her cheek. 

“You didn’t tell them,” he whispers. 

“I couldn’t.” She’s quiet for long enough that he thinks she might be falling asleep. “Every time before, I hid it from them. We said I was sick or pretended I was injured. I never made it past two months. Why should I tell them now? I don’t want to see that look in their eyes. The one Xiu fixed us with when he’d done the math. I don’t want to lose this baby two months in and have to tell them that we’re mourning a fifth. Perhaps they’ll ask when I’m sick over breakfast tomorrow. Po always does. Maybe then I can say something. But I wouldn’t hold my breath.” 

Mulan doesn’t make it to the table before the smell of breakfast hits her. She’s been eating her meals cold to avoid the smell and it had been working before their guests had arrived. She covers her mouth and makes her way quickly back down the hallway. 

“Is she alright?” Ling asks, looking after her. 

“Is she sick?” Po aks as Shang puts a bowl down too hard to cover the sounds of her retching. 

Yao doesn’t say anything, only looking down the hall with mild concern. 

“Should I check on her?” Biyu offers. Shang nods and Biyu bows her head before disappearing after Mulan. 

“Breakfast, gentlemen?” Shang offers, turning their attention back to him. Po gratefully takes a bowl but Ling still looks ready to question the events until Shang has to tell the news that Mulan should be giving them. “She’s alright,” Shang promises, voice softer. 

Judging by the look on Biyu’s face, she already knew. And so, probably, did Yao. Shang knows that Mulan will tell them if she’s ready to, but he won’t rush her. He knows her anxiety. He shares it, his own splintered heart working right alongside hers to move forward instead of stare into their past. 

The four of them start eating and the conversation moves to their homecoming stories. They’d left Luoyang together only two days after Shang and Mulan had left. 

“I said her name for the first time in over a decade and she came running to me,” Yao says with his heart in his eyes for the first time Shang can ever remember. “I think my heart stopped when I saw my boy.”

“Mother cried. I never thought she’d cry,” Ling says. 

“Have you met your mother? Of course, she cried,” Yao laughs. Ling looks to Po for help but Po agrees with Yao. 

“She cried more when we moved together,” Po points out. Shang doesn’t miss that Po hasn’t chimed in about his own parents. Maybe they died waiting for their son to return from war like many did. “I’m not sure if that’s because you decided to tell her you’re in love with me at the same time or if you were finally moving out.”

“I thought you were just going to say you were too old for marriage and moving in together?” Yao butts in. Shang loves watching the three of them interact. It reminds him of himself and Xiu. 

“I thought that too until he grabbed my hand and announced that we were love,” Po says with a smile. Ling’s cheeks are pink and he looks up at Shang for help. 

“At least they know, Ling,” Shang says with a shrug. “What made you do it?” 

“I didn’t want her worrying over another match, another bride, another wedding.” He pauses. “I didn’t want to lie.”

Mulan and Biyu return to the table, each taking their seats beside their husbands. Mulan looks exhausted and reaches for her tea instead of her breakfast bowl. 

“Are you well?” Po asks first. 

Mulan nods as she swallows her tea. “Just carrying a child that hates breakfast,” she says as casually as she might say that there’s a slight breeze outside. Only Shang knows how hard it is for her to actually say the words. 

The table erupts into congratulations and grins. Mulan’s hand finds Shang’s and he squeezes tight as her brothers all celebrate. Biyu shares a look with Mulan and he feels his wife relax beside him.

It’s a week before they depart. It’s hard saying goodbye but it’s nice to look forward to a quiet home again. Shang bows to his men and Biyu and watches Mulan attempt to do the same. She and Biyu bow, but Mulan somehow ends up folded into a hug with her brothers just as when their visit had started. 

“We’ll see them soon,” Shang says to her as they stand together to watch them depart. “Yao and Biyu are coming back for the birth, right?” 

“Yes.” She takes a deep breath and looks up at him with a smile. “Thank you for this.”

He rests his hand over hers on his arm. They needed this as much as she did. Yao had almost gone back for her on the mountain. He’d been on the verge of defying orders for her. She hadn’t been able to say goodbye to them. They’d probably expected to see her the next day in Luoyang and found that she had vanished into thin air like a spirit. The spirit who’d arrived to defend her country just to disappear when she’d succeeded. 


	36. Chapter 36

Mulan wakes on the morning of her third month of pregnancy and rubs her hand over the small bump. It’s not noticeable with clothes on yet, but it’s there. There’s a small curve that promises the beat of life underneath. She smiles and feels her joyful tears slip. She’s been crying more often. It doesn’t matter if they’re tears of joy, shock, or sadness. They fall without permission and Shang wipes them away with his thumb or his kisses. This morning is no different. 

Shang wakes up and turns to look at her, running his hand down her cheek softly as he smiles. “Good morning, beautiful.” His eyes shine in a perfect way when the morning light hits them while he’s still waking up. It catches the unguarded and gorgeous soul that lies behind the deep brown of his eyes. During the war, he could close off that look to show the steely gaze of a Captain, and later, General. 

Mulan takes his hand from her cheek and leads it down to her stomach. He nuzzles her as he grins, running his hand over the small bump. His touch is gentle and loving, making her heart quietly explode. 

The odd rules that her mother and Shang’s alike had enforced from their own homes had kept Shang and Mulan from doing much. It might be the pregnancy or the fact that Mulan hasn’t ridden her husband in three months, but every touch sets her on fire. Both of their mothers had warned that any kind of sex would be bad for the baby. After losing four, they weren’t taking any chances, but when Shang kisses her, it’s hard to think of one reason having sex would be bad. 

During the three months, they had done nothing more than kiss each other passionately, their breaths becoming heavy as they pawed at each other. It was vaguely reminiscent of the start of their relationship when all Mulan could do was swallow him whole or work her hand on his shaft or both. 

“Mulan,” Shang groans into her mouth as she guides his hand lower. His fingers slip between her wet lips and she lets go of his hand to grab him. 

“They said nothing about hands,” Mulan argues as her hand circles him. 

“Are you sure?” It’s hard having a conversation with his fingers teasing her as she aches for him. 

“Please,” she moans. One finger dips into her and she lets out an involuntary gasp and moves her hips against his hand to drive him deeper. Their mouths crash together as their hands work between them. He adds a second finger, and she’s not sure what he’s doing with his hand but it feels too good. 

She knows all the secrets to Shang’s body. She knows that biting his lip drives him crazy. She knows that when her breath plays across his collar bone as she pants and moans, he usually thrusts harder. She knows that when she runs her thumb in circles around his tip, he moans. She knows what it feels like to have him in her mouth, in her hand, inside of her. She knows what it feels like for him to fill her or spill over onto both of them. 

His thrusts match the rolling of her hips. If only they could get their hands out of the way, the enabling barriers that they are, so she could mount him and feel herself come apart with him. She calls his name, her back arching and head falling back. His fingers don’t stop and his lips descend on her throat, coaxing more from her. 

When her orgasm rolls past, she pulls his hand away and kisses down his chest, pushing him down to the bed. She wants to taste him on her lips. Mostly, she just wants him. She licks up his shaft before locking her lips around the head and slipping down as far as she can. He sucks in a breath and grabs a fistful of her hair. She bobs her head a few times, making him slick with spit before she returns to the tip to suck and swirl her tongue, hand jumping his shaft again. 

He groans and she tastes the bead of precum that her tongue slides over. She bobs her head again and sucks harder, feeling him tremble under her. She looks up at him and sees his eyes closed tight as his chest heaves. She lifts her head to run her thumb over his slicked tip and hears him moan. She returns her mouth to him and plays with him, her tongue pulling the noises from him until his hand tightens and her mouth fills with him. She swallows the saltiness and laps up the remains that dribble out after. 

“Good morning,” he pants, looking down at her and running his hand from her hair down the side of her face. 

“Good morning,” she answers with a satisfied grin. 

The unexpected side effect of pregnancy is that everyone wants to visit. Xiu and Liling will be arriving to help with the birth along with Yao and Biyu, but Mulan’s mother and Shang’s mother both wrote that they will be visiting before the birth to help around the house and help prepare them both. They chose the same days to arrive. They couldn’t be talked out of it. So in Mulan’s fifth month, she sits on a chair and waits for their arrival. 

“What’s wrong?” Shang asks as he sits next to her. They’ve just returned from a long walk around their property, bare feet tickled by the grass. She’s been refusing to wear shoes, her feet protesting every time she tries. 

“Will they get along?” Mulan asks, wondering how her quiet mother from a poor family will get along with the fierce matriarch of the Li family. Shang has had the same concerns. He’d voiced them when they’ve received both letters. 

“Yes,” he says and she furrows her brow. He can’t be sure of that and the look on his own face matched her concern. “They had to meet someday.”

“We could delay it until I’m not carrying a child that makes me exhausted and weepy.” She leans her head on his shoulder and they sigh at the same time. She runs her hand over the growing bump. 

“They’re supposed to arrive today. It’s a little late to delay it,” he reminds her before kissing the top of her head. 

When they do arrive, it’s much different than Mulan ever would have imagined. Both mothers bowed to each other before bowing to Shang and Mulan. They’re all sitting inside now and both mothers managed to pinch their lips tight when Shang poured the tea instead of Mulan. They hadn’t even thought about it beforehand. It’s just the roles they’ve slid into since the war ended. 

“I thought you weren’t going to have any more children?” Mulan blurts out at the first silence there is. Their mothers have been exchanging stories of Shang and Mulan in their infancy and childhoods. But she can see her brother outside playing with her dog. She can see more of her father in him than she can find in her own reflection. 

“That is hardly an appropriate topic,” her mother says. Mulan gives her a look. It’s one that tells her she remembers the heartbreak when Ping was stillborn. He hadn’t been named until his burial so he would be protected in his afterlife, but it was the only name she had to hold onto for the brother she never got to meet. “We thought you were dead.” 

Shang’s hand finds hers and she nods stiffly. “Right.” Her eyes go back to the open door where she can watch her brother again. 

The conversation keeps moving thanks to Shang trying to move it back to lighthearted territory but her mother brings it back. “He is your brother.” 

“I have brothers,” she says dismissively. Shang’s hand tightens on hers. She looks back at her mom. “I don’t dislike Zhen,” she corrects herself. 

“You have brothers?” Her mother balks. And here she’d thought the strangeness would be between the two strangers, not her and her own mother. 

“Yes. My brothers from war. They remain my brothers still.” She wonders how much she should explain. “Yao, Ling, and Po have been my brothers in arms and of heart for more than a decade.” 

“But surely now that they know you’re a woman…?” Shang’s mother interjects. 

“They remain close,” Shang says. “Yao and his wife, Biyu, will even be here to assist with the arrival.” 

And with that, the conversation moves away from talk of brothers of blood relation or not and onto cribs, more rules, and excited chatter for the baby. It’s a different world than the one she had been living in. It’s the one she had dreamed of. She feels a flutter and presses her hand over her stomach quickly. 

“Mulan?” 

She grabs Shang’s hand and presses it to her middle just above the first signs of kicks. She grins as tears roll down her cheeks. The kicks she had never felt before. The kicks she had yearned for. It’s not just the baby making her cry. Shang is crying too, a tear slipping down his cheek and dripping down. 

“Our baby.” Their parents don’t exist. The rest of the room doesn’t exist. It’s just them and the small joy of a kick from within. 

“Wait!” Mulan says as her mom starts to turn away. It’s been a week. She’s about to leave. Her things are packed up with her horse. 

“Mulan…”

Mulan pulls her mother into a hug. Even though they had hugged about her return from the war, it wasn’t a habit that was going to stick. It just wasn’t done. But she couldn’t let her go without one today. 

“Thank you, Mother,” she whispers into her shoulder as they cling to each other. 

“My orchid,” she coos back, hand stroking Mulan’s back gently. “Be well. Write to me and I’ll be here the month after. I promise.” 

They release each other and Mulan watches her go into the rain to start her journey home. 

Mulan wakes in the middle of the night to the kind of pain she had been told to expect. Despite the fact that they have everything ready and everyone is prepared, there still seems to be mild chaos as Shang wakes up. 

The plan hadn’t been one Shang and Mulan had particularly liked but would do their best to follow. Once the baby was coming, Shang was supposed to leave the room to get Biyu and Liling. Then he was not to go back into the room where Mulan would give birth. They had told him a longer time period than just during the birth, but neither had been willing to listen. Once the baby was born, Shang had made his intention to be by her side again quite clear. 

Shang sits up and looks at her in the dark with a mix of fear, excitement, and worry. When she nods, he kisses her forehead before whispering, “I love you. I love you so much.” 

“I love you,” she whispers back.

He had gotten into the habit of wearing his night clothes again in the past two weeks so he would be prepared to just grab his robe and go. She watches him go and smiles when he turns to look back at her several times before closing the door. 

Maybe it hadn’t really been anything. The pain is gone and she’s left in the quiet room listening to her own breaths. Mulan sits up and lights the candle next to her bed, a soft glow illuminating the night. 

The door opens and Liling walks in with Biyu. Both still have the signs of sleep on their faces, but their eyes are fully awake. 

“Good morning,” Liling smiles. She has some things with her that she starts setting up as Biyu goes to Mulan. 

“It stopped,” Mulan says to Biyu. Biyu has been a midwife in her village in all of the years that Yao was away at war. She’s been sending Mulan letters throughout the months telling her what to expect when and what to do. She’s been there the whole time, and she makes it clear that she’s here for her now. 

“It will come back. There are pauses. When they get closer together, it’ll be time for you to push,” she says, holding Mulan’s hand gently and brushing her hair away from her face. 

Mulan nods. She’s not afraid. She’s been to war. She’s defeated a tiger. She saved China and killed countless men. She’s taken lives, never given one. She’s terrified. 

“I know,” Biyu says calmingly. “But Liling and I are right here. Shang is with Xiu and Yao just outside. And your baby will be here soon. Deep breath.”

Mulan takes a deep breath and slowly lets it out. “Thank you.” 

The pain does return and it does so with a vengeance. It has Mulan clenching her teeth against it and sitting up. Biyu says soothing things and Mulan lets the sounds wash over her like water without listening. She needs to get up. When the wave passes, Liling helps her to get out of bed and loops her arm around her as they walk back and forth in the room. 

“Do you need anything?” Liling asks when Mulan stops walking to breathe through the third wave. 

“I have a feeling,” she says through clenched teeth, “that if I ask for my husband, you’ll refuse me.”

“Your feeling is correct.” Liling rubs her back. “Anything else?” 

“I need my arrow.” She doesn’t realize what she says until she says it. Biyu picks up the arrow from the bedside table and hands it to her. She grips it tight and closes her eyes. It’s a piece of Shang, but it’s also her reminder. Keep breathing. Keep going. Strength. Discipline. She’d gritted her teeth and pushed through her short-comings and exhaustion and made it to the top of that pole. She would grit her teeth and push through her fear and exhaustion and have the perfect baby with perfect cries and perfect toes. She reached her arrow. She would again.

Through the bursts of pain, the breathing, the random peels of laughter at random bits of conversation, time passes. It passes by without notice because the hour doesn’t matter in this moment. It doesn’t matter if the sun is starting to rise, set, or is glowing high in the sky outside. Mulan is kneeling on the floor, a cry ripping through her as Liling supports her from behind and Biyu guides her from the front.

In between pushes, Mulan leans back against Liling’s chest, breathing heavily and feeling her damp hair pushed away. Liling says soothing things in her ear but Mulan can only focus on this baby. She sits up again and the noise that’s pulled from her must sound truly terrifying because it feels like a guttural scream as she pushes again. 

“Yes!” Biyu urges her. “The head!” 

“Shang!” Mulan screams. 

“Okay. Rest! One more big push in a moment!” Biyu promises her. There’s only time for a few labored breaths before the last. She can feel Liling’s fingers in between hers as she squeezes. 

The cries that fill the room are the best sounds Mulan could think of hearing right now. Nothing compares. Mulan leans back against Liling again and smiles. Biyu beams as she hands her the quivering baby girl. 

“My Jiantou,” Mulan coos. She reached her arrow. 

As soon as the afterbirth is dealt with, Jiantou is cleaned and wrapped up, and Mulan has been gingerly returned to her bed, Liling finally opens the door. 

“Mulan,” Shang breathes when he sees her. Mulan smiles and looks up at him. He sits beside her and looks from her to their baby’s sleeping face. 

“Her name is Jiantou,” she says softly. 

“She is beautiful.” Mulan looks up at him and he kisses her gently. 

Her heart is full. The addition she and Shang have yearned for despite their previous circumstances has finally arrived and she’s perfect. Ten fingers, ten toes, and one very small nose. 

“Jiantou,” Shang says quietly when his forehead rests against Mulan’s. “Our baby girl.” 

And so begins the first month. Mulan is not to leave this room and neither is Jiantou. Technically, Shang isn’t really supposed to enter the room for the first month, but if there had been no way to keep him away from his wife, there is certainly no way to keep him away from his daughter. His eyes are soft and brimming with love as he looks upon her. No one will convince him that it’s the way things are done. 

Biyu helps Mulan start breastfeeding. Liling brings food and drinks and keeps the room clean, poking fun at Shang gently with every visit into the room. Everyone stays, but no one visits but Biyu and Liling because that’s all that’s allowed. It’s the perfect amount for Mulan. Any more and she might be overwhelmed. She only feels guilty once that she hadn’t invited her mother to be one of her attendants, but she stops dwelling on it when she’s in Shang’s arms, their daughter in her crib, their family resting. 


	37. Chapter 37

Shang carries Jiantou carefully out of the bedroom. Mulan is beside him, walking with her cane as they make their way to the main room where the party is waiting. All three of them have stayed safe in the bedroom for the past month. They’d lucky they had Xiu and Yao available to go do the farming and shopping with Biyu and Liling helped with the baby. 

The first month is crucial. Even without being told by older family members, Shang knows how important it is. Either mother or baby could die from countless complications. In celebration of the health of both Mulan and Jiantou, Liling had organized the first life celebration. 

There is a muted and collective “aww” from their family as they arrive. Shang’s mother is holding the hands of Mulan’s mother, both of them practically crying at the first sight of their granddaughter. Po and Ling sit with Yao and Biyu. Liling and Xiu, as hosts, stand off to the side with the pile of gifts. Zhen and Yao’s son, Kai, both look surprised by how small the bundle in Shang’s arms is. Liling’s sons sit quietly for once and her daughter, Na, is brimming with excitement even as she sits still in her seat. 

Shang and Mulan sit down together and let the celebrations commence. Compliments on how healthy Mulan looks and how perfect their daughter looks come first. Na gets up and walks over to Shang to look down into his arms. 

“What’s her name again?” she asks without looking up at Shang. 

“Jiantou,” he answers, getting lost looking down at her. His daughter has the softest black hair. It’s short and sometimes it sticks up and refuses to go down. It always makes Mulan laugh. Her eyes are the same shade of brown as Mulan’s. They’re not as dark as Shang’s. He wonders if she’ll take after both of them with their drive. If she’ll be better with a sword, a bow, or maybe she’ll be best with a paintbrush. 

“Let’s just get through this and then all of the business is out of the way and we can focus on dinner,” Xiu says. Somehow, all of the men ended up in Shang’s office with him to go over everything. 

“Mm,” Po hums. Ling elbows him with a smile. 

“Sorry. Where were we?” Shang asks. Xiu is a lifesaver. He’s able to keep track of everything that needs to happen despite the party and the fawning. 

“We just finished planning her education…” Xiu says. They had decided that when she was old enough, they would go to Fan Castle for her education. It’s the best option for her and it’s not a door that will close for them, being war heros decorated by the Emperor himself and all. She will either live with Xiu and Liling there during her schooling or all of them will move into their home there. “Where will she go if something happens to you and Mulan?” 

“What would happen to them?” Yao asks as if he’s been personally threatened. Po puts a hand on his arm and Xiu rolls his eyes. 

“Anything. Too strong a dust storm or maybe poorly cooked chicken. But she needs somewhere to go if something happens.” Xiu taps his fingers against the table as he looks at Shang. 

It’s not something he wants to think about. It’s necessary, but he doesn’t want to face the thought that something could happen. They’re happy. They made it past the first month. Isn’t that enough? But he and Mulan had already talked about it when they had been stuck in their room and she’d had an anxious and sleepless night. 

“We decided Ling and Po would be the best option for her,” Shang says. “If you’re okay with it,” he adds, looking to the couple. 

“Us?” Ling asks, sitting up a little more. He looks at Po and back to Shang. 

“We would love to, but nothing will happen,” Po says evenly.

“You two don’t strike me as the type for betrothal,” he says, glancing up at Shang. “Something about true love or whatever.”

“Yes. True love  _ or whatever _ ,” Shang laughs. 

“Betrothal came up with Biyu,” Yao says, looking at Xiu. 

“Liling said something about it to me too,” Xiu says. “Apparently they’re scheming to have your son marry our Na.”

“Wouldn’t have to deal with matchmaking for her in four years,” Shang interjects with a shrug. “And we already know the families get along.”

“I think it’s a fine match,” Xiu says. “But we can go over those details later if you’re alright with it. Not that we will have much to do after we tell Liling and Biyu that we agree. Those two will set everything else up. Thick as thieves.”

“Sounds great to me,” Yao agrees. “Biyu and Liling will never stop now.” 

“Are we done?” Shang asks. “I’m so tired, I’m seeing double.” He runs a hand over his face. 

“Yeah. Let’s go get some tea. Liling should be done with dinner soon.” Everyone gets up in order of ranking, residue from the war still clinging. 

Everyone gets to hold the baby at least once. He would be lying if he said that watching his mother hold her and promise her an eternity of love and the watchful protection of the Li family didn’t make his heart skip a beat. Mulan’s mother promised much the same. She’d glanced up at his mother before adding, “Your grandfathers will always watch over you and keep you safe.”

A different set of Captain Fa and General Li who were long gone had their love wrapped around her and they weren’t even here to promise it. But their memories are enough. Their spirits are here. 

Liling doesn’t hold her for long as she’s been one of the four who have been allowed to hold her for the first month. She passes her to Xiu with practiced hands and grins. 

“We’re not having another,” he says when he sees a glint in her eye. 

“We can talk later,” she says dismissively. Xiu laughs and looks down at his niece and all of his past jokes that he would never be an uncle by Shang diminish in his eyes. All that’s left is a small secondhand pride. 

Biyu does the same as Liling, only holding Jiantou long enough to pass her onto Yao. His eyes well up and it’s the first time Shang has seen him so close to tears aside from the night Mulan was on the mountain. When Shang looks at Mulan, she looks just as surprised, her eyes wide as she looks at her usually stoic brother. 

“She’s perfect, P-Mulan.” Yao looks up at her quickly before looking back down at her. “I’m sorry we had to wait so long for her, but she’s finally here.” 

“She is,” Mulan sighs happily. 

“The last babe I held was my son,” Yao says. Kai is outside with Zhen, play fighting with sticks. “Last time I held him, he was fast asleep in my arms while I said goodbye. I thought I’d be home in a year or so.” Biyu looks at Yao with a sorrowful look. He’d never said anything like that to her. He’s tried to stay strong for her. It’s hard to stay strong when the exterior is so easily cracked by a new baby. 

Po and Ling sit close together when they hold her. Ling runs a finger over her tiny fist while Po cradles her. They look at each other with that same look Liling gave Xiu but neither says anything. 

When Po transfers Jiantou back into Mulan’s arms, she settles against Shang’s side. His arm wraps around her and Liling shoots him a look. It’s one of those  _ you’re being disgustingly in love _ looks and he smiles back, proud to say that he is. 

“Thank you,” Shang says to Liling as they walk. “For coming and staying to help with everything. It means everything to both of us.”

“Biyu did more than I did.” 

“And I’ve thanked Biyu as well.” They stop near the stables. It’s morning. Mulan is inside feeding Jiantou while Biyu makes breakfast for everyone else. They’re leaving today. Everyone is going home after their meal. 

“I’m proud of you, brother,” she says thoughtfully. He raises an eyebrow but says nothing. “I never thought this would happen. The way you talked was so much like father. The day you left for war was the day I thought I’d seen you for the last time. Mother told me it was bad luck to mourn the living. I’m glad I didn’t. And she’s lovely. No one else would be so suited to you.”

“I’ve never told her, but I thank her ancestors every day that she wasn’t matched.” He smiles guiltily and Liling looks at him in shock. “If she had been, she might not have taken her father’s place. It’s selfish and I do wish she never had to go through war, but I thank every star in the sky that I met her.”

“Do you ever fight or is as perfect as it looks?” Liling asks as she starts walking again. 

“Everyone fights.” He shakes his head. “We used to fight about bigger things like the betrothal letters Mother would send or the time I thought she had someone back home. It turned into smaller things like who was making dinner or me begging her to stop including me in the gossip.” 

“I think our next fight will be over having another,” Liling muses with a mischievous look about her. 

“I doubt he’ll put up much of a fight,” Shang laughs. “Besides, Jiantou needs a cousin her age.” 

“Perfect point, brother. She  _ does _ , doesn’t she?” 

The goodbyes were bittersweet and felt fast, but with a rush of noise and commotion as everyone packed up and moved out, Mulan and Shang were back to the quiet solitude. Jiantou sleeps soundly in her crib as Shang pulls Mulan against him and rests his cheek on top of her head. 

“Are you glad we moved here?” Mulan asks after a second. 

“Was my mother trying to convince you that we should move to Fan Castle again?” He already knows she was. It’s unusual for families to live apart like this. He was always supposed to remain at Fan Castle with his mother and raise his family there with her. Like Ling and Po were each supposed to stay with their parents. Like Yao lived with his. But Po’s parents are gone and Ling’s parents, despite the initial plan to move to the new house they found for Ling and his wife years ago, didn’t follow when they were invited. Maybe they didn’t agree with the lifestyle. But Shang had never wanted to stay at Fan Castle. Neither of them belong there. 

“No,” Mulan lies. “But our whole family is there.”

“We have been surrounded by thousands without a moment of peace for over a decade. I could go the rest of this dynasty in our small corner where no one even knows we exist.” He presses a kiss to the top of her head before tilting her chin up to look at him. “I’m perfectly happy to be here alone with you two.” 

“Maybe a fourth eventually,” Mulan says, kissing the pad of this thumb. His heart leaps. Dreams they were never really allowed before don’t feel like curses anymore. It’s okay to speak them aloud, share them, hope for them to come true. 

The wails pierce the night. She’s not hungry. She just ate. She just doesn’t want to sleep. Mulan covers her face with her hands and sighs. “I’ll go,” Shang says. Mulan nods without taking her hands away as Shang gets up and goes to the crib. 

He had tried making a crib. It didn’t go well. This crib was one he bought from a merchant in town when he had reached his breaking point of figuring out that he may be a General but he’s no carpenter. At the time, he’d thought it was perfect. The wood was carved with intricate designs and it was definitely sturdy. On nights like these, he wonders if it was worth it when all she wants to do is sleep in their arms while they ache to get more sleep themselves. 

“You have a crib,” he reminds Jiantou in a whisper when he leaves the room with her. “You could sleep there. I enjoy holding you just as much as you like being held, but someday you’ll be too big for this.” 

He walks into the main room without bothering to light any candles. The moonlight filters in with the starlight giving them enough light to not sit in complete darkness. She’s stopped her crying, but they’ve been through this before. She demands the movement of his steps carrying her, swaying her, rocking her gently to sleep. So he walks slowly, swaying gently. 

“Your grandfather used to sing to me when I was young and couldn’t sleep. I would have nightmares about what happened when he was away for battles. He tried to make it stop by telling me to be a man first. It didn’t work. Liling started having nightmares about it too. I must have started telling her mine. That’s when he started to sing to us when we woke in the middle of the night.” 

It’s the only part of his dad he can share with her without recounting the battles. He’d spent so much time training or fighting under his command. He barely remembers the family meals or if he was even there. Most of the time he spent with his father was with swords in their hands, battle or plans around them. Or in the dark front room at the home where he grew up listening to the song that was meant to calm him and keep him steady. 

“You must be tranquil as a forest,” Shang sings softly, “but on fire within. Once you find your center, you are sure to win. You must be swift as a coursing river with all the force of a great typhoon. With all the strength of a raging fire. Because I’ll be sure to come on home to you.” 

The first part had become something Shang sang to himself when he was young. It slowly just became what he told himself when he felt his heart pounding with anxiety. He remembers the words flowing through him when he had been spiraling around the dangerous path his heart was taking when it had decided to follow Ping. He remembers that first night, his skin scorching as he ran and tried to calm himself with the words that had always been there to comfort him. 

He sings it again quietly, swaying in place instead of pacing, his own eyes closed as he holds his daughter against his chest. 

“Someone asked if I was  _ the  _ General Li today,” Shang says as he brings in the bags of food he’d gone into town for. Mulan is sitting with Jiantou, feeding her as she sits in a beam of sunlight that stretches through the window. She looks over at him and raises her eyebrows in question. “I said yes.”

“What did he want?” She hasn’t bothered with her hair today, letting it flow down the back of her chair in a dark curtain. 

“People are asking about visiting here again. We prevented it for a long while. I said we wouldn’t be accepting any visitors aside from family until the baby is old enough. I think I can hold them off for another few months.” Once it had been discovered that Li Shang was  _ the  _ General Li and that he was married to  _ the _ Captain Fa, they have been eager to visit to see the gifts from the Emperor, meet the war heros, and probably hear the stories they already know from the people who lived them. 

“Thank you.” She tilts her face and he walks over to press a kiss to her soft lips. 

“Where’s Mushu?” Shang asks as he takes the seat next to her. 

“Doing his chores.” 

“That poor dog.” He had thought she was joking when she’d told him Little Brother was trained to feed the chickens. He had thought he was calling her bluff when he told her to go ahead and train the puppy to do the same. He lives on a farm with a dog who feeds chickens as if it’s his daily chore. 

“He likes it,” she insists with a smile. “Besides being recognized in town, how was your shopping trip?” 

Normality. Domesticity. A life where he can breathe and talk about daily life with his wife who doesn’t have to hide who she is anymore while they look after a baby he’s proud to call his, their dog feeds the chickens and their horse wears a blanket rather than armor. “Perfect.”


	38. Chapter 38

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Be Warned All Who Enter Here  
> As promised, I am here to announce that you need to prepare yourself for the ending of this fic for dangerous waters lie ahead. Or take leave now and pretend that it ended happily last chapter and nothing will go amiss.  
> To those you must exit the ride, thank you for reading this far. Please skip to Chapter 40 for the art if you wish. Thank you for reading!  
> Those who read on, thank you for sticking with me here. I am so sorry, but also not. Thank you thank you. <3 Good luck. May the odds be ever in your favor.

It’s interesting how time passing changes in people’s minds. Mulan’s life has become segmented by major events when she had never thought any kind of major event would even happen to her. All of China documents their time by the dynasty. Within each dynasty, everyone keeps track by the Emperor. For Mulan it was her life before the war, during the war, and after the war. But there’s the smaller increments that end up designated to love and family. Before the war includes before and after she failed to be matched. During the war is marked by meeting Shang, marrying him in secret, and after being left on the mountain. After the war is before and after having their baby. 

It’s been six months since she had Jiantou, but it feels like the blink of an eye. One moment, she was small and swaddled, her features not yet defined. The next, she’s wiggling and giggling all over the place. She’s not yet crawling, but she’s trying to and that’s enough of a promise to keep Mulan and Shang busy keeping her out of trouble. She sleeps through the night now in her own crib, no longer screaming to be held as long as the moon is in the sky.

Though exhausted, Shang’s happiness shines as bright as the sun. He was meant to have a daughter. Mulan sees it in the way he holds her and cheers for her to roll over. She hears it when he tells her stories or sings. It’s a side none of his soldiers would believe existed. He’d been a tough but fair Captain during training, but there was no applause for making it up the mountain with weights. There was no call of celebrations when someone won a sparring match. There were no cheers when the fatigued soldiers managed to roll over and get up in the morning. They wouldn’t believe the delight in his eyes or the praises that he sings when Jiantou sits up, rolls over, or takes a bite of mashed up vegetables. 

The first night that they move Jiantou to her own room, it takes less than an hour before their clothes are on the floor and Mulan is pinned to the bed. They’ve had to make do with the couch or against random walls outside of the bedroom for ages. Finally they’re back in their bed, Shang’s hands running over her body. It’s changed from carrying a baby but he doesn’t seem to care, devouring every piece of her with his eyes, hands, and mouth. 

He’d already done more than enough to get her ready. She’s aching for him by the time he pushes into her. His lips are hot on hers, hungry for her as he moves his hips slowly. His tongue traces her bottom lip before slipping into her mouth. She sucks and gives lets out a soft breathy noise, rolling her hips against his when he’s deep inside of her. 

One of his hands cups her breast, a thumb gliding over her nipple as he continues to slowly pump his hips. He’s going to drive her crazy. She bites his lip and kisses him harder, bucking her own hips and forcing him to move faster. Give her more. His thursts come quicker and she whimpers as he hits the spot. 

“Shang!” 

His mouth moves to her neck as she moans, his hand leaving her breast to hold onto her hip. Mulan’s hand tightens on his ass as her waves crash. When her orgasm passes, she takes her hand back, sucking on one of her fingers before bringing it back to Shang’s ass. They only did it a few times before, but she knows he likes it. She pushes her spit-slicked finger into him and his thrusts stop as he gasps. 

“Keep going,” she urges through her ragged breaths. He resumes as she slides carefully in and out of him. He matches her pace, his kisses stopping as he pants into her neck. She doesn’t know how many times she cries out, her body rigid with pleasure as he tears her apart at the seams before his groans join hers. 

Her mouth captures his and she swallows his pleasured sounds as his hips slam against hers and she feels him fill her. When he finishes, his forehead rests against hers as their labored breaths attempt to return to normal.

“I love you,” she smiles. 

“I love you too,” he whispers back before he kisses her. They disentangled themselves, wash quickly and return to their bed to sleep in each other’s arms, not bothering with night clothes. 

“What’s Mama thinking about?” Shang asks Jiantou as he looks up at Mulan. 

She smiles and shakes her head, lifting her chin from her hand where it had been resting. “I should go clean Magu’s hooves. Poor old man.” 

“Have fun,” he says as she gets up, leaning on her cane. They go back to playing as she steps out into the morning air. It’s late enough in the morning that the dewdrops are gone from the flower petals and blades of grass, but early enough that the sun is still trying to stretch higher, the chill sticking in the air. 

Mulan walks to the stables to her horse looks up from his water trough. He’s just starting to look old. He’s nearing twenty years old now. His back has started to dip just a little and the gray hair in his face has begun to speckle through the black. She runs her hand over his soft nose. “Good morning, old man.” 

He looks at her as if to say _Magu will do just fine_. She smiles and goes to a box where his grooming supplies are kept. He never puts up a fuss over his grooming. Not for her anyway. And she’s protective over the job. They’ve been through too much together for someone else to clean his hooves and give him baths. She’s been doing it since she was old enough follow her dad to the stables. 

“I will take you for a walk today, I promise. We have visitors coming first. Then I’m all yours,” she says as she lifts one of his legs. She works on each of his hooves quietly and carefully. When she’s done, she pets him before letting him nuzzle her. 

“Later,” she promises. He huffs and she can’t help but laugh as she leaves the stable.

She can hear voices inside. She took long enough that the townspeople have arrived while she was in her own world. Mulan walks in and slips back to the bedroom to make sure Jiantou is napping. She is, her face serene as she dreams. Mulan gives a gentle kiss to Jiantou’s forehead before leaving the room again. 

A man is talking to Shang in the main room. Mulan walks in and stands beside Shang quietly. When they’re alone, she’s free to speak her mind. She’s free to do mostly anything that she likes. But in front of others, she pretends. She stays quiet. She knows the place they believe to be hers. 

She serves tea to Shang, and the visiting man and wife. They’re simple farmers who have been married for three years. She’s only nineteen. She was only six when the war started. Mulan wonders if she fought alongside the girl’s father or brother. If whoever left her home came back a little over a year ago when the war ended. 

“I see you have the crest of the Emperor,” the man says. “We heard rumors that it was given to Captain Fa, but surely the Emperor would never bestow such a gift to a woman.” 

Shang clears his throat awkwardly. “My wife served as Captain Fa and was gifted that crest. It’s a high honor that we can’t question.” Shang’s tone is cutting. 

“Apologies,” the man says, though he sounds like it’s a difficult word to push out. His wife looks at Mulan with a startled look that she covers when Mulan meets her eye. “We had thought the gossip that you married was just that. No one has been able to say with any certainty if General Li’s wife is the same woman who fought in the war.”

“Who won the war,” Shang corrects. This atmosphere is getting colder by the second. Mulan wonders if the conversation doesn’t change if Shang will escort them out and refuse a future visit. 

“You have a lovely home,” the girl says to Mulan in a quiet voice in an awkward attempt to sever the tension. It’s not successful, their husbands continuing to bite off conversation as they glare at each other. This isn’t going well.

“Thank you,” Mulan says, not knowing whether to look at her or keep watching Shang. She nudges Shang. It’s time for their visitors to leave. He nods stiffly and everyone rises. 

They’re halfway to the door when Mulan hears the girl behind her gasp, “No!” just before white hot pain sears her spine. She doesn’t mean to scream. She doesn’t mean to fall either. Shang catches her and she watches his heart break in his eyes. 

“No!” 

His eyes are that dark brown that so dark it’s almost black. In the night, they are black, gleaming with the light of the moon. In the sunlight, when it hits at the right angle, she can see the rich brown color. Both are her favorite color. 

One of his hands comes away from her soaking wet with blood. She knows. She’s not ready, but she knows. She’s still pressed to his side, trying to memorize his face as she starts to get dizzy. 

His nose is strong and has a rigid line near the bridge where he told her it had been broken once. His high cheekbones and almond eyes. The strong jaw that she’s run her fingers across and kissed too many times to count. His lips are still moving, still talking, begging for the same thing as her heart. 

“Stay with me. You’re alright. Stay with me, love,” he says to her. 

“I love you.” It comes out as a whisper but she doesn’t mean for it to. 

He looks away from her and up at the man who stabbed her. She’s surprised he hasn’t run, but he’s trying to convince his wife to move. She’s only screaming. 

Shang’s arm around her is somehow keeping her together, but it won’t last. She lets her head rest against his chest, closing her eyes. The pain isn’t that bad. She’s had much worse. But she knows. She can recover from a tiger digging into her leg and shoulder. She can recover from being stabbed through her stomach. She can recover from so many things. And she did. But she can feel her blood leaving her. She can see her blood on Shang’s hand. She can feel the world tilting and blurring. 

“Shang,” she cries. “I will return to you…”

“Sh. No. Mulan. No.” He sucks in a breath before shakily answering, “I would be with you if I could.”

Mulan opens her eyes and blinks blearily. They’re on the floor. “I don’t want to go.” 

“Stay with me,” he begs. Tears stream down his cheeks. She remembers the first time she fainted and woke up to Shang’s worried eyes. “Mulan.” He’d called her Ping then and she could barely lift the training weights. 

“I can’t,” she sobs. His thumb wipes some of her tears but it’s useless. They keep coming. “I love you. I love you. Shang. I don’t want to go.” 

“I love you,” he chokes, holding her closer. 

It’s dark and it’s quiet. She should be able to hear the wind or the birds. She should hear Jiantou’s cries or that girl’s screams. All she can hear is Shang’s quaking voice and it’s getting softer and farther away. 

She’d done what she’d meant to do. She had gone to war and fought in her father’s place. She made Captain. She trained and led men to victory. She fell in love. She watched her family grow by brothers and children. She just didn’t get to see what Shang would look like with silver hair at his temples. She wouldn’t get to meet her grandchildren. She would never know what Jiantou’s first word would be. But she fell in love. She won the war. She brought honor to her family and found that honor within herself long before she ever killed her final enemy. 

“ _When saying Ling, Yao, Po, and Ping, although the surnames are different yet, we have come together as brothers. From this day forward, we shall join forces for a common purpose: to protect one another in battle, see this war through at each other’s sides and win for China.We seek not to be born on the same day, in the same month, and in the same year. We merely hope to die on the same day, in the same month, and in the same year. May the Gods of Heaven and Earth attest to what is in our hearts. If we should ever do anything to betray our friendship, may Heaven and the people of Earth both strike us dead.”_

 _“I belong to you,” Shang once whispered. “I have since that first day when you had the entire camp picking up rice. I will until my dying breath.”_ _  
__“I belong to you. It is written in the stars, in my heart. I will love you until my heart ceases to beat.”_

She suspects that she’ll love him long after her heart stops because it doesn’t seem to be dimming with the slower beats. “Shang…” 

.

His chest feels like it’s splitting open and he can’t breathe, but Shang kept moving. Jiantou is crying. She’s been crying since the screaming began days ago. He had grabbed only what was important before leaving: some food, a blanket, her arrow. 

“Where are you going?” the widow called after him before he left. He still doesn’t know how she was even able to speak to him. He had just killed her husband in front of her. Her husband who killed his wife. His blood feels cold. His heart feels like it’s been run through with hot needles. 

“Not here. You should leave.” 

His hands have long since been washed, but when he raises his fist to knock on the door, all he sees is her blood. The knock is her scream. He holds Jiantou closer to him and closes his eyes, willing it away. He can feel his heart splitting into pieces and shattering. 

“Shang? It’s the middle of the night. What’s wrong?” Xiu pulls him inside quickly and shuts the door. “Where’s Mulan?” 

“She’s gone.” The words feel empty and somehow cursed in his mouth. He feels cold and empty. 

“You look like you’re going to faint. Sit down.” Xiu takes Jiantou and Shang falls into the nearest chair. “What do you mean she’s gone?” 

“I mean I held her in my arms while she died after someone stabbed her,” Shang says, the tears returning to roll down his cheeks. “I held her and begged her not to die.” He looks at his hands that still look to his as if they’re drenched in her blood and sees that he’s shaking. 

Xiu swears and Shang listens to his footsteps disappear for a moment. When they come back, another set has joined him. 

“Shang!” Liling kneels in front of him and takes his hands in hers. “You didn’t tell me he’s barely breathing,” she shoots at Xiu. “Look at me. You need to breathe. You can do this.” She looks over her shoulder at Xiu. “He’s burning up.” 

“I lost her.” 

The last he’d kissed her was that morning after breakfast. He’d gone to take care of their dishes as she laid down with Jiantou to feed her. It hadn’t been a goodbye. It was sweet and short and tasted a little like the eggs they’d just eaten. It was an _I love you_ in passing. It was a _you’re beautiful this morning_ without words. It was never meant to be the last of anything. The first kiss wasn’t supposed to be the beginning of anything either. The first kiss had been feverish and rash, fantasies colliding with reality to start something that he had no idea would change his life like this. 

He leans forward on his knees to try to make it easier to breathe, but nothing helps. He watches the floor between his feet become spotted with his tears. His vision is starting to blur but he can’t tell if it’s from the sobbing or hyperventilation.

“I’m sending for her brothers immediately. Stay with him.” Liling lets go of Shang’s hands and it feels like another thread pulled loose. 

When the tiger had attacked them, he had woken in his tent alone for the first time in months. He was stitched and bandaged all to hell, but he didn’t feel like he was in one piece. Mulan was missing and the last he’d seen of her was her stretching her hand toward him, the tiger on top her, blood all over her. She’d been screaming his name, terrified and heartbroken. Their hands had locked, but then he was waking up and she was gone. 

He can feel every kiss, every time she jumped into his arms, every nuzzle, every nose and forehead touch. He can hear every laugh, every _I love you_. Every single one. He knows that the stars are high but he can’t bear to look up at them. She claimed the stars long ago and he can feel their presence because of it. 

Maybe this is why everyone was so against falling in love. Everyone else got matched and lived their lives with their spouses and children and continued their family lines without complaint. Everyone else seemed to be fine with how things are. Maybe they all knew that to fall in love was to feel your heart break. Maybe they knew the pain that is splitting his chest and mind. 

“Shang?” Xiu grips Shang’s shoulder. He must have been talking and Shang missed every word. 

“He stabbed her because he didn’t like that a woman saved China. He killed my wife because she saved her country,” Shang says. His voice sounds raw and strained. 

“I’ll kill him,” Xiu says. It’s a threat and a promise, but somehow sounds too even and calm. 

“I already did.” 

“What do you need?” Xiu asks too gently for who he is. 

“My wife.” 

Xiu nods but doesn’t say anything for a moment. He sighs before he gets up. “You can stay in the guest room. You need to get changed.” He’s still wearing the clothes he’d been wearing then. He hadn’t brought a change of clothes with him. He hadn’t thought about it. Shang nods and swallows hard, trying to reset his breathing. He stands up but Shang feels himself fall. Too much too fast with not enough air. His head hits the floor too hard. 

_No._


	39. Chapter 39

Yao stares at the white clothing he has yet to put on. It’s heavier than the armor he’d worn. Biyu sighs when she comes into the room and finds him there. The past month hasn’t been easy. 

A messenger came in the early morning to summon Yao, Ling, and Po to Fan Castle. Yao had felt his stomach drop to the soles of his feet when they were told that Li Mulan was dead. Po, who doesn’t have much color to begin with, paled and fainted. Ling had started fighting the news, demanding for it to not be true before begging for it not to be true. Their brother is dead. 

When they had arrived, eyes red from crying, they had expected to find their General. Instead, they found Xiu weeping. They heard Jiantou crying. They did not see their General. There was supposed to be one funeral. It became two. 

A stroke of fate had brought Yao a brother. A random tent assignment that had been written in the stars. Under a tree, he’d made a vow. Once, he’d thought he’d broken it by leaving her on the mountain by order of his General. This was worse. 

This is so much worse. 

“Kai is going to school today,” Biyu says, sitting next to him on the bed. Yao nods. His son is smarter than he ever was. He must get it from his mother’s side. He’s not as strong, but he can still fight with a sword better than most others. “Ling and Po are expecting you today.”

They live in the next house over. They have a little brown dog who Mulan named Mushu who feeds Ling’s chickens. They have an old retired horse who Mulan probably named Magu. If it wasn’t her, it was Captain Fa the Elder. And they have a baby girl who Mulan named Jiantou. 

Yao grunts and nods. That’s the only way any of them have been able to get through this; spending at least a single tea service with each other a day if not spend the entire day together. Biyu has been helping with Jiantou and is often the one serving the tea. She isn’t allowed to go to any of her normal activities. She can’t work for at least a few more months aside from helping Ling and Po. Their mourning period won’t last as long as Yao thinks it should, but everyone has to look forward to moving on eventually. Besides, he knows Mulan is watching over them. She’s the archer in the stars. 

Yao takes the short walk over to Ling and Po’s. He doesn’t bother knocking. Their house is basically an extension of his own. When they were boys, they had discussed getting a larger plot of land and all living together anyway to raise their families together. Other families do it, in fact, it’s expected for families to do so, but other families don’t have three sets of parents to also house. Yao already had a home with his wife and parents when he’d been sent off to war. Ling’s parents had always wanted Ling and his future wife to move into a better home and bring them along. They’d gone as far as to purchase a nice home near Yao’s. They haven’t spoken to Ling since he came home with Po on his arm. Po’s parents died in a ferry accident a handful of years ago. 

“Come on in,” Ling says sarcastically. 

“Thanks. I already have,” Yao answers. “Biyu sent me with news.”

“News?” Po asks, walking in with Jiantou. She clings to him, playing with a fold in his clothes. 

“The section of the house that was being rebuilt for you is finished. We can start moving your things in whenever you’re ready.” Yao opens his arms as Jiantou looks at him. She beams and reaches for him as Po passes her to him. “Good morning, little one.” 

“Ba paid for this house already. He’s traveling in with his family now,” Ling says, gesturing to a letter on the table as he walks into the main room to take a seat. 

“They could have moved in. We have more than enough room,” Yao says, patting Jiantou’s back as she curls up against his chest. 

“It’s just as good having the milk mother stay next door. And Jiantou won’t need her for much longer. Qiao agreed that staying here with her family would be better for everyone,” Po adds. 

Yao doesn’t want to think of it as a stroke of luck, but Ba’s wife, Qiao, had delivered a stillborn son just a week after Ling and Po brought home their adopted daughter. The timing was right, but the loss of a child is never light. She had stayed with Ling and Po, helping to nurse Jiantou. Now that there’s room, Ba is on his way to join her after a month of separation. The house will be filled. Ba’s parents, children, and brother with his family will fill the small house to bursting in the best way. 

“Why is the dog inside?” Yao asks when he spots Mushu on the floor in the corner. 

“He finished his chores,” Po says like this explains why a dog is in the house. 

“She trained him very well. I don’t know how he knows how to do it,” Ling muses. Yao shoots them both a look. Even Mulan didn’t allow the dog in the house. It’s just not done. 

“He’s a good dog and he likes being inside,” Po defends himself. Ling’s fingers slide between Po’s so he can lift Po’s hand to his lips for a soft kiss. “Did  _ you _ like sleeping outside? No. None of us did.”

“He’s a dog.”

“A good dog who feeds chickens.” 

Ling and Yao glare at each other for a moment before Yao sighs. He’s getting too old for this. He looks at Jiantou who has sat back in his lap and is staring at him. “I guess the dog is allowed in the house,” he tells her in a sigh. She grins even though she has no idea what he’s talking about and it’s cute enough to melt any kind of exterior he might have had. 

Po and Ling spend the afternoon carting their furniture and belongings from their house to Yao’s. Biyu and Qiao are with Jiantou. Yao is supposed to move the animals. The chickens were easy. Mushu followed without complaint. The final move is Magu. 

Magu is missing his rider. Mulan and Magu had bonded in a way that no one else seemed to with their horse. They had known each other for her whole life. Of course they were bonded. When she rode him into battle, they were unstoppable forces. Any fear would fade from both of them, their eyes setting on their goal and they would move as one. When she fought, firing her arrows from his back, no one could possibly know that she was crippled. 

The first time Mulan had tried to pull herself back up onto Magu’s back after the attack, she’d cried out in pain. Magu’s nostrils had flared before he’d found that there was no attacker at fault for her pain. 

“I can do it!” she had snapped when Po had stepped forward. Everyone froze. She had huffed a breath of determination before going again. When she failed a second time, Magu had lowered himself, his front legs bent in an angled bow. She swung her leg over and Magu steadily rose, ready to be her new legs. 

“Ready?” Yao asks, the temporary rope lead looped in place. He pushes open the stable gate and walks with the old horse back toward his house. 

Magu had been young once. His coat had been shiny and rich with color. His eyes had been bright and he could go for days. He could keep up with Mulan. Then again, they had all been young. They had been in their twenties, newly married or ready to be matched. They had all been free of the aches and pains that now rest in their bones if they work for too long or sleep in the wrong position. Yao is the only one who is starting to go gray at his temples, but Magu is with him, gray flecks in his face. 

Everything about the past month has devastated him. He hadn’t known what it would feel like to lose her or Shang. He hadn’t known that everything would hold memories within it. They come up unexpectedly and tear at his heart. He’d spilled rice one day and cried when he remembered the moment he’d met Ping. When he happens to look up and see Ling and Po share a look, kiss, or even just pass each other a dish he’s sent back to all of the conversations he’d had with Mulan and Shang about them. It’s the sound of wood hitting the floor that makes his head snap up, expecting Mulan with her cane. It’s the red curtain blowing in the wind that out of the corner of his eye is his General’s cape. Even the laughter at a dinner table becomes a memory of the meals spent among their group of friends no matter how bad the food or bitter the wine. The tea was sometimes just hot water, the rice undercooked, and the meat nonexistent, but the laughter and stories were there. 

Yao lets Magu into his new home before walking to his own house. Kai is busy trying to teach a seven month old what he learned in school today to notice when Yao walks in. He doesn’t mind. He can hear his mother with Biyu in the kitchen singing together as they cook. 

.

“It’s been long enough, Ling,” his mother says. They’re finally speaking to him again. It might have something to do with the fact that Po made him write to them to tell them that he had adopted a baby. Ling had waited months to do it. He’s been Jiantou’s adopted father for six months and it took him this long to let his parents know. 

“What has?” His attention is only half on them. Jiantou is a full year old now and she can walk and babble and is currently knocking everything down. He picks her up and looks back at his mother. It';s ridiculous that he’s even here talking to them after how they handled the news. 

“You’ve been in mourning for six months for someone who wasn’t even family.” The words are a stab through the gut and he knows what that actually feels like. His eyes narrow. 

“She may not have been your family, but she was mine,” he says in a tone that offers no room for argument. His mother purses her lips but doesn’t fight it anymore. 

“Are you going to adopt a son?” she asks instead, changing the subject back to the other big disappointment of her life. Everyone else hadn’t cared that Jiantou was a girl. She is a gift. But once she marries, she can’t carry on his line. 

“Po and I haven’t decided yet.” They have discussed it. They do want children to raise and a family to expand together. They’ve been whispering about it at night in the dark for three years. Jiantou has enriched their lives in a way they had only ever dreamed of, but she’s also a handful. And boys are harder to adopt. Maybe they’ll end up with a few girls before finally finding a baby boy. Maybe they’ll only have girls. It doesn’t matter to them. 

His mom keeps rambling about things he doesn’t really care about. Advice on marriage he doesn’t need. Her opinions on raising children. Her controversial opinion that they should find a woman to have their children to continue their line instead of adopt the orphans of China. Gossip from her friends’ families or the town. The weather. That she worried for him every day he was gone and had prayed to their ancestors to keep him safe twice a day for twelve years. Wait, what?  
“You prayed to them for me?” Ling asks. 

“Of course, I did, you stupid boy.” She shakes her head but she’s smiling. “My son was at war and hadn’t written a single letter home. I had to pray.” 

“I didn’t know if writing home would hurt you more,” he admits.

Everyone had thought about it. Po had gone so far as to write out half a letter before tossing the page into the fire and deciding that it would break their hearts to hear the truth and break his to lie. Yao doesn’t write. He can read slowly, but when he was excelling at fighting lessons and failing at literacy, they simply stopped trying to teach him to write. He had asked Ling, Po, and Mulan all on separate occasions to write home to his wife, but never actually told any of them what to write.  _ Ping _ hadn’t explained why  _ he _ never wrote, but once it was revealed that she was Mulan, it made sense. A letter could have damned her. Shang was the only one who did write home, but Mulan must have been the only one to know what was in those letters. No one else had ever had a chance to see. 

Ling sighs heavily. “They saved me,” he says after a moment, thinking about the miraculous recovery from his stabbing. His mother’s eyes soften. “So thank you.”

“Dada,” Jiantou interrupts, looking at Ling. His heart can’t take it. It’s a recent development and he lives for it. He hadn’t thought he would ever be okay with hearing her call him her father. But he is. Po is. And so is Shang. They won’t let his memory die for her, but she can be the girl with three fathers. One is just watching over her with the rest of her ancestors, his love forever protecting her. 

“Baby,” he answers, picking her up. “I have to go.” 

“Thank you for coming to see us,” she says as she formally bows to him. 

“I was never not speaking to you, Mother.” He looks around. “Tell Father I said hello and goodbye.” She nods, her lips pressing together as he turns away and walks out the door with his daughter. 

The afternoon turned to evening without notice. The air is a little colder but not yet crisp. It’s perfect for the walk home. They live on the other side of town. There are two paths that lead to the same destination. One cuts through the busy part of town with the market and friends trying to extend their time together. The other wraps around, ignoring the heavy traffic. It’s a little longer and after how much he’d walked for twelve years, he never thought he would decide to take the long way home, but here he is. He’d rather hold onto Jiantou’s tiny hand and help her walk on the dirt path for just a little bit longer. And if he’s honest, sometimes he misses the days spent walking and talking with his friends, cracking jokes to keep morale up while enjoying the changing landscapes. 

“Up,” Jiantou says, stopping suddenly and raising her hands. 

“We’re almost home,” he argues, pointing down the path. He can see their gate. When he looks back down at her, she presses against his leg, her arms still extended.

“Up.” 

“Of course, darling.” He picks her up and she fits perfectly against his side. She holds onto him but somehow also manages to pull a lock of his hair free. “Why?” He looks at her with narrowed, jokingly accusatory eyes and she giggles. 

Today isn’t just any day. Today is Jiantou’s birthday. Next month will be a full year since he first met her. It will mark the first full year since he first held her in his arms. But to hold a birthday celebration during a mourning period is inauspicious. She will go without a celebration, but he can still acknowledge it. 

“Did I ever tell you about the arrow you’re named for?” Ling asks. Biyu and Liling hadn’t known the significance. They had only passed on their theories as to why Mulan would have asked for an arrow and named her daughter for it. 

“On the very first day of training, your father fired an arrow into the top of a very tall pole.” Ling points up and watches as she looks up too. “There were two weights and you had to bear their weight as you climbed the pole. No one could do it.” He remembers watching Yao attack the pole with his full force, not expecting the weights to drag him down so easily. The first time Po had tried, he didn’t make it far. Ling could barely lift the weights at all. A lot has changed since then. 

“Every once in awhile, someone would crack their knuckles, size up that pole, grab the weights, and try to scramble up as fast as they could.” They should have made a game out of how many failed attempts there were. “I had already decided that I was never going to make it up. I had noodle arms.” He wiggles his free arm that is a lot more muscled than it was back then. Jiantou giggles instead of trying to mimic, her hands occupied with holding onto him. 

“It was getting embarrassing so the men stopped trying. We focused on everything else and looked away from that mean old arrow that taunted us.” He reaches the gate to their home and takes a seat outside in the grass. Jiantou sits in his lap and pulls at the grass. 

“Your mother didn’t.”

“Mama.” She doesn’t know how much it breaks his heart when she says that. He smiles sadly and nods. 

“Mama decided she was going to reach the arrow. I didn’t see the start. I wish I had. We woke up and went outside and she was almost to the top! Everyone came rushing out to see. Forget breakfast. Someone was about to reach the arrow! We all watched her climb up and perch right on top of that pole as if she belonged in the clouds. She didn’t even lift the arrow over her head in triumph. She didn’t brag or yell. She held the arrow quietly while we all cheered.” 

“She threw it at his feet,” Po says, emerging from the house. He sits in the grass with them and plants a kiss on top of Jiantou’s head. “No one else would have had the guts to do that.”

“I forgot about that.” Ling wonders for a moment how she got the arrow back after Shang had taken it but decides it’s probably better if he doesn’t think about it. “Sorry. Is dinner ready?” 

“Not yet.” Po kisses Ling gently and sits back again. It’s strange how much comfort can come from a sweet kiss, but Ling wraps himself in the feeling as Po continues the story. “She had that arrow for a long time. She never once shot it, but it stayed with her. I don’t think many others noticed. But then, we apparently weren’t the most astute group of men. We couldn’t tell that our own Ping was a woman.” 

“I’m glad she kept it.” Ling accepts the blade of grass from Jiantou and thanks her. “I will keep this forever,” he tells her, putting the grass in his pocket. “Aunt Biyu says that the arrow was just what she needed.” 

“She was sentimental and strong,” Po says softly. “If I had to guess, she was hoping the same for you, little one.” 

.

It’s the last day of mourning. A year ago today, it was Mulan’s last day of life. Po takes a shaky breath as he enters the Li family shrine. Shang and Mulan’s names still seem fresh and bold in their etching. He sets Jiantou back down on the ground and watches with tears in his eyes as she runs her fingers over the markings. He had thought it would get easier with time, but losing them is a wound that will heal with a scar. It might not hurt forever, but the mark will last on his soul. 

Ling kneels beside Po on his right and Yao kneels on his left. Yao bows, his lips moving in a quiet prayer. Ling takes a steadying breath before he follows suit. Jiantou sits in front of the stone with her hand splayed there.

“Thank you,” Po whispers as he bows before the epitaph. “Thank you for being my brother and her mother. Thank you both for being the best General and Captain anyone could have hoped to serve with. We will do right by her as you did right by us. I will protect her with my life. Watch over us, brother. I love you.” 

He continues with a silent prayer as Jiantou pats him on the shoulder before he sits up again. “Dada,” she says, crawling onto his lap before he has a chance to stand up. He hugs her before rising to his feet, his little girl still in his arms. The four of them walk out together, hearts still heavy, but their love received.

Liling and her sisters had all gone in before them but after their mother. Shang’s mother was never supposed to mourn his death. She was never supposed to outlive her child. Xiu had looked glassy-eyed when they’d arrived and had only said that he would go in later. He stands alone outside the temple now. 

It’s hard to see Xiu like this. A year ago, he had been inconsolable. By the time Yao, Ling, and Po had arrived at Fan Castle, Xiu had had to be dragged away from Shang’s body. Over the year, whenever they saw him, he had managed to keep himself together. He smiled even if it didn’t reach his eyes. There were a few laughs that burst out without permission and he’d immediately looked as if he had been betrayed by his own body. Today, he looks like he’s reliving the moment he lost his best friend. At least none of them had had to see it happen. He’d had to watch his closest friend come in already a broken man from watching his wife die. And then he lost him. 

They’re all in pain which he never thought he would want to share with anyone. He doesn’t like when others feel as helpless and sad as this, but it’s been something of a comfort to share it with Xiu, Yao, and Ling. The burden of their loss is shared. They don’t have to talk about it and reopen the wounds. They can just be together and know that they aren’t alone. 

“Xiu,” Yao says gruffly. Xiu’s eyes focus and he smiles. He’s doing a lot better. They all are. They all have moments though. He sees it when Yao thinks no one saw the tears. He hears it when Ling starts telling stories of them to Jiantou. He feels it in random moments within his own heart. 

“Tea or wine?” Xiu asks as they start walking back. 

“Wow, he sounds like he was a hardass at training,” Xiu laughs. Ling laughs with him, ready to heartily agree. “He’d always wanted to be that high up on the chain though. I know they weren’t sure if he was ready, but we all knew he was.”

“What was he like before?” Po asks as he pours himself more tea. 

“Mostly the same. He took everything very seriously. Every training session was strictly training because he had a job to do or there had been another uprising or whatever.” Xiu takes a sip of his tea and shakes his head. “Outside of training, we just walked around forever and talked. We guessed at who we would marry sometimes. But Shang didn’t want to get married. I don’t think he allowed himself to be a kid for long. When Fan Castle was invaded, that was a night that changed both of us. Our homes were suddenly a battleground. You don’t go back to playing children’s games after seeing what we saw. I loved him. He was the best friend someone could have in a time and place like this.” 

“We were surprised when Mulan befriended him. He hadn’t been unfriendly, but no one had ever just gone off to have a normal conversation with him before her,” Ling says. “But I guess they were already married or close to it at that point.” 

“I was glad to be called a friend by him,” Yao says thoughtfully. Po hadn’t thought about it. Shang’s friend group had always been limited to a close few. He chose to be friends with them. He shared dinners. The conversations changed from polite small talk to gossip and advice that only inner circle friends are part of. 

Ling nods in agreement and Xiu smiles. If it hadn’t been for Mulan falling in love with Shang, then Xiu probably never would have become their friend either. They had created a family out there. They had clung to it for so long that Po can still feel it. 

They pass the rest of the afternoon with stories about Shang and Mulan before they leave to go back home and end their mourning period to return to the land of the living. 

Yao cuddles Jiantou in his lap while Ling rests his head on Po’s shoulder. Their fingers are laced and the stars start to come out early, battling the sun for a spot in the sky. Yao whispers stories that Mulan had told him of the stars to Jiantou as she drifts to sleep in his arms, her small face upturned to the sky. 

Po folds the white clothes they’ve been wearing for the past year and puts them in a trunk. He hopes he never has to wear them ever again. He can’t lock the grief away with them, but he takes a deep breath. He knows he can get through this. He’s made it a year. Every step beyond that will get easier. 

Ling comes back into the room to get Po for breakfast. He’s holding a sleepy Jiantou who’s grin could be compared to sunshine. They walk out to the main room where Biyu and Yao’s mother are serving breakfast together. 

There is no more white. Yao wears his favorite burgundy. Ling has donned yellow. Po is back to his green. Jiantou wears purple. Time moves on and love persists, helping them to keep moving with it. 

**The End.**


	40. Art for Part 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> All art by insominia! Thank you for the wonderful artwork and everything else you've been doing with me for this fic! It was awesome seeing you fall so in love with the story that you had to pick up an art medium to express it. Thank you for being my cheerleader.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Huge thank you to everyone who read, left kudos, and/or commented! Whether you skipped the sad ending or stuck through, thank you so much. It means a lot. I hadn't thought this fic would do that well.  
> Feel free to leave a comment letting me know how you liked the fic, favorite parts, or anything really. I love hearing from you and your support has meant the world to me.  
> Thank you!


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